


Marrying Fred Weasley

by Little_Miss_Dracula



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Complete, Eventual Sex, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Dracula/pseuds/Little_Miss_Dracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the debilitating last Wizarding War, new Minister for Magic, Adolfus Salem, introduces a new law: The Statute for the Regulation of the Magical Population. When they are forced into an arranged marriage, Fred and Hermione must put aside their differences or be made to leave the world they love.  18/18 COMPLETE!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Statute

**Author's Note:**

> I know the marriage law fic has been done many, many times. But I read a lovely couple over at fanfic.net, and the idea was rattling around in my head for such a long time I absolutely *had* to write it! Fred/Hermione, so obviously, Fred still lives (the only death I couldn't quite get over!)
> 
> Enjoy, my dearest Reader,
> 
> L_M_D

The owl was insistent, tap, tap, tapping on the window even though it was 7am on a Sunday, and oblivious to the fact that Hermione and Ginny had both been up late the night before, skimming through marriage magazines in preparation for Ginny’s upcoming nuptials. She had been staying there for a few weeks before the ceremony, after Ginny had insisted she couldn’t be without her maid of honour. Hermione dragged herself out of the bed, allowed the bird in and removed the two letters attached to its leg. She threw the one addressed to Ginny at the protesting witch currently in bed, and sat on her own divan. It was sealed with purple wax, and showed the official Ministry of Magic symbol.

_For the attention of Ms. Hermione Granger, The Smallest Bedroom, The Burrow._

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_As you are aware, the magical population has been decimated in recent years by the uprising of Dark Wizards, led by a man styling himself Lord Voldemort. Thanks to the courageous actions of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter (Order of Merlin, First Class), and his friends at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, these Dark Wizards have been defeated, and the Ministry seeks to destroy the remaining groups of these so-called Death Eaters._

_As part of its ongoing measures against these Death Eaters, the Ministry has enforced a number of new laws to protect the Non-Magical Population, and Muggle-born witches and wizards. The pamphlet enclosed contains some information on a new law, to be instigated on 16 th March of this year. We hope that this pamphlet will be found informative and useful._

_Kindest Regards,_

_Adolfus Salem_

_Minister of Magic_

_Order of Merlin, First Class_

_Former Wizamagot Member_

 

Hermione sighed. This was one of a series of almost identical letters that had been appearing over the last few months. Adolfus Salem had been elected Minister just a few short months after the last Wizarding War, and he had been introducing more and more laws under the guise of protecting Muggles and Muggle-born magical people.

‘Don’t worry, Gin, it’s just another protection law coming through next month.’ She sighed. Ginny made a noise that could have been approval, and snuggled further under her comforter.

Hermione laid back on her pillow. She was awake now, so she may as well read this pamphlet. She would need to know about it when she went back to work on Monday, after all.

The pamphlet was the familiar purple, the same as the rest of them. Yellow, cursive writing banded across the top of the paper:

_The Statute for the Regulation of the Magical Population_

Hm. Hermione didn’t like the sound of that, and she frowned slightly. Her frown deepened as she read further and further through the pamphlet.

_Given the now severely diminished Magical population, which is now less than half of the what it was at the beginning of the last Wizarding War, the current government is taking steps to redress this problem._

_The Ministry of Magic has always encouraged marriage as an important Magical institution. We at the Ministry also wish to protect the remaining witches and wizards born to Non-Magical parents. After the devastating effects of the last Wizarding War, in which many valuable lives were lost due to their Non-Magical parents, the Ministry wishes to safeguard these important assets to the Wizarding World. For these reasons, and various others, outlined below, the Statute for the Regulation of the Magical Population has been introduced._

_The Statute states:_

  * _All unmarried witches and wizards under the age of forty (40) years of age are to be married, by a Ministry official, to a Ministry-appointed spouse._
  * _All witches and wizards from Non-Magical parents shall be married to a Pureblood spouse._
  * _These weddings must take place within six months of the Statute’s beginning (16 th March)_
  * _Marriages will conform to Ministry of Magic marital regulations. Couples will be bonded for life._
  * _Unless medically impossible, within one year of these weddings, couples must have conceived a child. If couples have not conceived within one (1) year of marriage, couples will be required to undergo a medical test by a qualified Healer at St. Mungo’s._
  * _Throughout the course of the first year of marriage, the couple will be required to undergo various aptitude tests, to ensure they are attempting to have a marital relationship with their appointed spouse. If they are found to be unwilling to co-operate with this law, their magical status will be revoked, and their wands snapped._



_Couples who are engaged, who have lodged their intention to marry with the Ministry of Magic prior to the receipt of this letter are exempt from this Statute, and are free to marry their already-chosen spouse._

_Your spouse will be decided for you within the next week, and you can expect confirmation of your new life partner by return owl._

 

What followed was a list of exemptions, regulations and reasons. Hermione sat in shock for several minutes before shaking Ginny awake fully. As she forced Ginny’s letter into her hands she realised it wouldn’t matter to her: Harry and Ginny had filed for a magical marriage license three weeks ago. Their wedding was in less than a month. Ginny and Harry were exempt.

Hermione ran a hand through her already bushy hair.

‘Oh _Hermione…_ ’ Ginny sighed softly as she finished reading the Statute.

‘It’s okay, at least you get to be with Harry!’ she smiled, feeling actually relieved for her friend.

‘Yeah,’ Ginny allowed herself a smile. ‘I’m glad I told him I wanted a spring wedding! But what about you Hermione? What on earth are you going to do?’

‘I don’t see how there’s anything I can do! I don’t want to lose my place in this world, I love it too much. I guess I’ve just got to hope they don’t match me with someone _awful_. Or Ronald!’ she giggled slightly.

Ginny smiled too. She had been relieved when Hermione and Ron had split up a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. Not that she didn’t want Hermione as a sister, which she wanted more than anything, but she was happy Hermione wasn’t going to let Ron treat her like she meant so little.

Her hand flew to her mouth when she realised what they were laughing about.

‘Oh, what are you going to _do_?’

‘Wait, I guess. Wait, until I know who my…my husband… is going to be. Oh Merlin, I need to write to my parents!’


	2. She's marrying me...

The rest of the week at the Burrow was subdued. Hermione buried herself in helping Ginny plan her wedding: picking colour schemes, even subjecting herself to the torture of being dragged around Diagon Alley to look for dresses. It worked, occasionally, but every time she saw Ginny’s large square diamond ring, she was forcibly reminded that she, herself, would soon be wearing a ring herself. _At least Ginny is happy,_ she would think to herself, watching the red-head giggle girlishly with Mrs. Weasley over garters and veils. _And hopefully they’ll match me with someone I can at least build a friendship with_.

 

Hermione suspected that Mrs. Weasley was hoping that she would be matched with Ron, so she could finally have her as a second daughter; the rest of the Weasley’s had protested, loudly. Mr Weasley was silent. His boys had tried, night after night, to get his help repealing the laws (and Hermione’s, since she now worked for the Ministry).

 

One night, about five days after the shock news, the family had gathered for one more of Molly’s famous Friday-night dinners. They were more subdued than normal, since the news had applied to everyone, except Ginny and Harry and Bill and Fleur, who were still silent, worried for their friends, and reluctant to be overly coupley, as though it would seem they were rubbing it in their faces.

Ron was reaching for a fifth helping of potatoes, and Hermione had just finally put down her knife and fork (she really _had_ to find her own flat, before Molly made her double in size), when a rapping at the window made Mrs. Weasley scream.

‘ _The letters_!’ she squeaked, not moving from her chair. ‘Arthur, let the bird in.’

Molly’s assumption was correct. Five imperial looking brown owls settled themselves on the side board, sticking their legs out importantly. The five recipients were glued to their seats.

It stayed that way for quite some time, before Ginny eventually got up, untied the letters and threw them at their intended owners, allowing the Ministry birds to fly back into the night.

Molly began offering everyone pudding. Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. The name of her husband was written in this envelope. The man she would spend the rest of her life with. She sat for several moments, her heart thudding out what she was almost entirely sure was a samba beat of nerves and trepidation. She’d never imagined she’d find out her life partner like this. She’d had a dream, as most teenage girls do, of meeting a man in a very specific way. They’d be at a bookstore, or a library, and they’d reach for the same book… She’d also envisaged a long period of courting, dating, getting to know one another slowly, with no reason in the world to hurry. They’d save up, move in together, slowly but surely build a life…

‘Oh, _someone_ please just open the letter? The tension is killing me here!’ Ginny gave in, after five minutes of seeing the entire group in silence (a length of time unheard of in the Weasley household.)

Fred and George glanced at each other, nodded, and ripped open their letters simultaneously. Ron tore his open with the same force which he had previously been applying to his mothers cooking. Both Charlie and Hermione undid theirs shakily.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_The Ministry of Magic is writing to inform you of your chosen spouse, in accordance with the Statute for the Regulation of the Magical Population. Your spouse has been carefully selected in order to closely match you with one of a similar age and interests._

_Your Ministry-approved match is: Frederick Weasley._

_Your marriage must take place before a Ministry-appointed Official on or before 16 th September this year._

_Congratulations on your upcoming marriage._

_With kindest wishes,_

_Adolfus Salem,_

_Minister for Magic,_

_Order of Merlin First Class_

_Former Wizanmagot Member_

Hermione sat in stunned silence. She heard Molly asking the boys who they had been paired with. Ron said sullenly:

‘Tris McMillain. Don’t even know her.’

‘Course you know her!’ Harry interjected. ‘She’s the Hufflepuff girl, the blonde one with the really… um… really long legs…’ When Hermione glanced up, Ginny had cocked an eyebrow and was looking at Harry pointedly. She let out a giggle, though, and like that he was forgiven.

‘Well, boys, what about the rest of you? Come on, spit it out!’

‘Angelina Jonson.’ George grinned happily. Hermione caught Fred’s eye. He looked like he was going to be sick. She felt the same way.

Charlie was smiling quite widely. ‘Katarina Bracciano. She works in the Office for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The beast division. She’s into dragons!’ 

Molly smiled lovingly. ‘Well, it sounds at least like you two will be happy!’ she indicated George and Charlie. ‘And I’m sure Tris is a lovely girl, Ron. Just don’t make any Hufflepuff jokes when you meet her!’ Molly turned to Hermione. ‘What about you, dear? Do you know your match?’

Hermione just nodded, stiffly. It was just beginning to sink in. She was marrying Fred Weasley.

‘Well, dear? Who is it? It can’t be that awful…?

‘It’s not Draco, is it?!’ Ginny gasped.

‘Worse than that, Gin.’ Fred said, attempting his trademark grin, but managing only a grimace. ‘She’s marrying me.’

 


	3. The odd ones out

Hermione was sat on Ginny’s bed. Tears had been cascading down her cheeks for some time. _Mrs Hermione Weasley_ was a name she had thought of many times, during her crush on and time with Ron. But _Mrs Fred Weasley_ was not the alternative. She had hoped, vainly it would seem, that there would have been a nice young man in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, or somewhere, whom she had not met. A dark-haired young man with eyes like the ocean and a heart of gold. The counterpart to her, who loved to read and walk. Who wanted a dog, two children and a library. Instead, she had been matched with her ex-boyfriend’s older brother. Notorious prankster Fred Weasley.

Ginny knocked as quietly as she could. Hermione was silent, which Ginny took as a ‘please come in.’ She threw her arms around her maid of honour.

‘Oh _Hermione_!’

‘You’ve been saying that a lot lately!’

‘It’s not that bad, Hermione. I mean, Fred’s a git, but he’s a good guy really. And you’ll get to be my sister at least!’ she smiled, ‘Fred’s a Weasley through and through, and he’ll treat you right. Or he’ll have me to answer to!’ She added, rather menacingly.

‘I know, Gin. It’s not _Fred_ that I object to. I know he’s a lovely guy really. He’s just not the guy I ever thought I would marry! I’ve never so much as thought about him in that way. He’s so… not my type, I guess.’

Ginny just hugged her harder.

 

Two floors up, Fred and George sat in their shared bedroom. George was still smiling. Fred looked perplexed.

‘Come on, Forge, it’s not that bad. She’s not entirely horrific looking…’

‘She’s not horrific at all… She’s just…’

‘A bookworm.’

‘A goody-two shoes.’

‘And Harry Potter’s best friend.’ They finished together.

‘Did you see her face at dinner, though, George? She looked like she was going to be sick.’

‘So did you, mate. I thought you’d taken a Skiving Snackbox by accident again.’

Fred nudged him in the ribs, half-heartedly. George smiled back.

‘You’ll be alright, mate. At least she’s good looking. Feel sorry for Ron’s new wife, she’s stuck with that ugly mug for the rest of her life.’ Fred chuckled in spite of himself.

 

Still, over the next week, he found himself avoiding the rooms which Hermione was in. He spent more time at the flat he shared with George. Hermione, for her part, blushed a deep crimson whenever her new… _fiancé_ … entered the room, and spent a lot of time investing far more interest than normal in Ginny’s impending wedding plans. The date was drawing nearer, and there was still so much to do… at least, that’s what she reasoned.

The only time they had actually been in a room together was at three o’clock one morning, as Hermione had padded softly down the stairs for a glass of water. Fred had been sat at the table, slowly playing Exploding Snap alone. He looked up and smiled as Crookshanks preceded her into the room. She smiled back, got her glass of water and was on her way out again when Fred’s voice stopped her.

‘Hey, Granger?’

‘Yes, Fred?’

She turned around, calm and collected as possibly could be, as though the possibility of their inevitable wedding was another obstacle to overcome, with the same determined look on her face that Fred had seen so many times during her Prefect days back at Hogwarts, and Fred lost his nerve, to say anything, let alone mention the wedding that was causing him such alarm.

‘Nothing. G’night, Granger.’

‘Goodnight, Fred.’

 

They hadn’t spoken since, despite Ginny’s wheedling attempts to convince Hermione she needed to _start arranging the damn wedding already_ and continuous attempts to mention that _the Hermione she knew didn’t run away from her problems_ , which Hermione had crossly deemed emotional blackmail.

Molly Weasley, however, was having none of it. Hermione Granger was going to be her daughter-in-law (not the way she’d expected, granted, but a daughter nonetheless) and she was not about to see the brightest young witch in the country and her beloved Fred kicked out of the Wizarding world because they refused to comply with this new ridiculous law. So she planned an extra-special Friday night dinner, two weeks from the date they had learned of their new Ministry-approved partners. Ostensibly, this was to be the last of such Friday night family meals, since the next week would be Ginny and Harry’s stag/hen do’s, but Molly had ulterior motives. She had invited all the new members of the Weasley clan, and carefully constructed a seating plan that would force Hermione and Fred into conversation.

The fateful day arrived, and after helping Molly set up the table and prepare some of the food, Hermione had changed into a shirt and a flattering pair of jeans, since the dinner was meant to be informal, before heading down with Ginny to the table, set outside to accommodate the numbers, increased from normal to include the new fiancés of the Weasley children.

Harry and Ron were already down there, so Ginny and Hermione grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and stood talking to them. Ron was fussing about the shirt he was wearing.

‘What if she thinks it’s too much?’

‘You look fine, Ron, calm down.’ Harry reassured him.

‘You look like our great Uncle Milton,’ Ginny teased. Ron stuck his tongue out at her.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ronald.’ Hermione told him calmly. ‘Your future wife just apparated into the garden.’ Ron span round on the spot, and sure enough, there was Tris McMillain, with all of the _attributes_ Harry had ascribed to her. She was indeed tall, with long blonde hair and a curvaceous figure.

Ginny snorted at Ron’s face. ‘Do close your mouth, brother, you want her to marry you, not run away screaming.’

Tris walked over to the group, looking somewhat nervous. Hermione took a large swig of butterbeer. Her and Ron may have broken up some time ago, but learning that your ex-boyfriend is now going to be married to someone who looks like she dropped out of _Witch Weekly_ is not the nicest feeling in the world. Still, she smiled and made small talk until Bill and Fleur arrived, when she could safely engage Bill in a conversation about Gringotts, and divert her attention away from Ron’s fawning over Tris.

The twins arrived with an exceptionally loud _crack_ , having apparated from their own flat above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Hermione smiled and nodded at them both, uncomfortably aware that she really needed to get to know Fred better.

 _He is rather handsome,_ she noted. _And at least I know him as a friend. It could be worse, Hermione._ She suddenly felt rather ashamed at having run away from him. _You can’t run away from the law, Hermione. It is what it is. You are marrying Fred Weasley whether you like it or not. So you may as well like it_.

After her stern talk to herself, she was about to politely move away from Bill’s (admittedly interesting) discussion on the increased security measures at Gringotts, to talk to Fred, but the arrival of Molly, levitating many platters of her delicious home cooking signalled the move to sit down.

Name cards had been placed on the table, and Hermione found herself sat in between the twins, Angelina Johnson opposite George, and Ron and Tris opposite herself and Fred. George easily fell into conversation with Angelina: the twins and her had been friends for some considerable time, so their engagement was hardly unsurprising. Both keen Quidditch players, their conversation turned to Ginny’s budding career with the Holyhead Harpies and other matches in the current World Cup… all of which was slightly above Hermione’s head. Ron was tucking into his food with his usual gusto, but still managing to make polite conversation with Tris, who apparently loved Molly’s potatoes almost as much as her future husband.

Hermione smiled sadly, and began helping herself to chicken, when Fred spoke to her for the first time in weeks.

‘They all seem rather well-matched, don’t they?’ It was said softly, so neither Ron nor George could hear. He let out a small chuckle as Ron cried:

‘Bloody hell, me too!’ at something Tris had said.

‘They do. Seem well-matched I mean.’

‘Everyone except us.’ He laughed again. Hermione’s stomach belly-flopped.

‘Indeed.’

‘I’m not that bad you know, Granger.’

‘I know. And neither am I!’

‘I know that. We’ll sort something out. With your brain and my charm, we can convince those Ministry officials we’re the most loved-up couple in Britain.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her and she couldn’t help but laugh (at the other end of the table, Molly Weasley smiled).

‘Sorry I’ve been…well… not really overly friendly for the last few weeks.’

Fred just smiled.

‘That’s alright Granger. Neither have I, I guess.’

Hermione sighed. ‘This whole situation is just so strange.’

‘I know. And since everyone else is matched with someone they could fall in love with, it’s even weirder knowing we’re the odd ones out!’

Apparently not realising the sting of his words, Fred tucked into his plateful of food. Hermione toyed with a piece of chicken. She had started to wonder if Fred was the worst person in the world to be matched with. She wasn’t in love with him, nor did she particularly want to marry him, but knowing that he simply saw her as his younger brother’s best friend, as someone he could never fall in love with, still stung. She grimaced and began to eat.


	4. We'll be okay

The rest of the dinner passed without incident. Hermione’s ears had burnt for a little while after Fred’s comments, but she lifted her chin up and continued. Conversation flowed from Hermione’s new job in the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Education, to Quidditch, to the Statute, to a million other topics. Ron’s future wife was particularly keen to integrate herself with the group, to which she was a complete outsider, and Hermione found herself warming to the girl. She talked with her about Hogwarts over pudding, and found the girl to possess all the likeable traits of her house: she was warm, friendly, and apparently a very hard worker – she was currently training to be a Healer at St. Mungos. Ron seemed taken with her too, which Hermione was pleased to see in bittersweet way.  

After pudding, the entire group seemed to collectively lean back, butterbeer in hand, and sigh contentedly. The conversation eventually lulled down to the natural conclusion, and Tris, Angelina and the twins took their leave together. Hermione smiled, hugged Angelina, shook hands with Tris, and was squeezed into a hug by both twins simultaneously. Slightly breathless after they let go, she smiled and waved before they apparated away.

Gradually, the rest of the Weasley clan said their goodnights, and Hermione and Ginny were among those who headed for bed. Once they were both settled for the night, the chat inevitably turned to the dinner.

‘Tris seems nice. Feel sorry for her, putting up with my git of a brother.’

‘Oh, Ginny, that’s not very nice! Ron and her will get along just fine, I think. They seemed to really hit it off over dinner.’

Ginny yawned. ‘Good. And Angelina and George are just perfect, of course. I don’t suppose you spoke much to Charlie’s fiancé, Katarina?’

‘No, I barely saw her, actually.’

‘She’s nice. Pretty, and a red-head too, so she’ll look right in the family pictures!’ Ginny chuckled. ‘Everyone seems quite well-suited, considering the circumstances.’

Hermione’s heart skipped. ‘Except me and Fred,’ she reminded Ginny, recalling her conversation with her future husband at the dinner table.

‘Oh yeah!’ Ginny propped herself up on one elbow to look properly at Hermione. ‘How did that go at dinner? I noticed Mum strategically placed you so you’d have to speak to him!’

‘It was fine.’

‘…’Mione…’

‘Apart from the fact he basically told me I’m not someone he could ever fall in love with.’

‘HE WHAT?’ Ginny’s screech was deafening.

‘Well, I know it’s true!’ Hermione’s feelings were released with a sob. Ginny clambered down and sat on her divan, wrapping her arms around her best friend. ‘I just feel stupid. I don’t even know why I’m upset. I don’t love him. I don’t even fancy him, and I certainly don’t want to marry him. So why do I care what he thinks?’

‘Um, because you’re a human being? You’re going to spend the rest of your life with this man, of course you want to think that you might have a chance at happiness. Look, I’ll go over to his and talk to him in the morning…’

‘No, no, please don’t! He’ll think I have some silly little crush on him or something. It’s fine. We’ll make it work. We have to.’

‘I know you will, Hermione. You’ll figure something out – you’re easily the smartest person we know. And Fred’s an idiot if he can’t see he got lucky. Brains and beauty? And a Gryffindor to boot? He could have ended up with Millicent Bulstrode or something awful!’

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. ‘Thank you. Though I don’t see how the bookworm ex-girlfriend of his younger brother is that much of a catch! Anyway, get back into bed! We’ve got a lot to do in the morning – only a week to go and we _still_ don’t have bridesmaid’s dresses yet!’

‘I know, I know, I’m disorganised and a useless bride. You’ve been an angel the last few weeks, I promise to help you out when it comes to your wedding. You might be marrying my git of a brother, but you’ll still have the best damn wedding ever, if I have anything to do with it.’

Hermione fell asleep content.

 

The next few days were a blur of wedding preparations. There was so much to organize when it came to a wedding, Hermione realised after the eighth consecutive bridesmaid dress had been rejected by Ginny for not being the right shade of purple. She ought to owl Fred, try and organize something. There was no escaping the fact they needed to get married, and even if they left it right until the last day they had to organize a wedding – Molly would not be happy if she just had a simple registry office service – and neither would her own mother, for that matter.

 _After Ginny’s wedding_ , she reasoned. _It’s not that far away._

And indeed the week slipped by her much faster than any of them would have liked, and suddenly Friday evening was here, which meant only one thing: the hen do.

The excitement was already buzzing in the morning as Hermione slipped downstairs to make herself and the currently sleeping bride-to-be some coffee. She was surprised to see Fred, George, Ron, Charlie, Bill, and a very nervous looking Harry were already up and dressed, all looking dapper in shirts and ties. _Even Fred looks quite handsome_ , a traitorous part of her brain told her as she looked sternly at them.

‘I do hope you’re not planning anything too awful, boys. I’ve got a very lovely young redhead that would like her groom _returned in one piece_ if you don’t mind!’ She shook her head at the evil grins on the faces of Fred and George. ‘I’m looking at you two in particular!’ she emphasized, pointing at them.

‘Yeah, better listen to the Missis!’ Charlie joked, nudging Fred, who had turned redder than his hair. Hermione also turned scarlet, immediately turning around to grab the coffee mugs so she didn’t have to look at the boys. _It’s even weirder knowing we’re the odd ones out!_ rang in her ears. A loud crack indicated the exit of the lads, all of whom were laughing. Hermione let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in and turned to take the mugs of coffee back up to Ginny.

She let out a small scream when she realised Fred was still stood behind her.

‘Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you jump!’ Fred apologised… and then immediately burst out laughing.

‘What?!’ Hermione demanded. ‘What on earth is funny?!’

‘Sorry… hahaha… it’s just..haha… your face was a picture! Sorry, I didn’t mean it!’

Hermione relaxed a little. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!’ She smiled. ‘Why haven’t you gone with the others?’

‘I told them I’d catch up. Just wanted to apologise for Charlie back there…’

‘It’s okay… I guess we are engaged, after all. People are allowed to talk about it.’

‘I guess…. Hey, Granger?’

‘Yes, Fred?’

‘Just, I hope you don’t feel too… disappointed. That’s all. We’ll be okay. I promise not to be too much of an idiot… and much less of an idiot than Ron was.’

Another _crack_ interrupted the moment. George threw an arm around Fred.

‘Well, Freddikins, sorry to interrupt your moment with the old ball and chain, but Harry’s tied to a chair and there’s a rather interesting brand of Firewiskey on its way over to our table, so if you’ll excuse us…’ He apparated back to wherever he came from, pulling Fred along with him.

Hermione smiled slightly and finally took Ginny her coffee. They had a day at the spa to get to.


	5. It's bloody orange!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super long! Sorry, but I just had to gt it all in!  
> As ever, please enjoy, my dearest Reader,  
> L_M_D

Molly, Luna, Hermione, Fleur and Ginny were all feeling very happily pampered at _Mademoiselle Malkin’s Magical Mineral Springs_ . After a combination of Muggle and Magical treatments, they now all sat around a low table, which was laden with cakes and goodies, drinking a champagne toast to the new bride.

‘I just want to say a few words!’ a tipsy and teary-eyed Molly declared, getting to her feet. ‘I just wanted to tell you, Ginny, before you get married and become Mrs Potter, how incredibly proud I am of you… Not only did you help defeat… _You-know-Who_ …’ she whispered the name, ‘but you have grown into the most beaut… _sob_ … beautiful, intelligent young woman…’ Molly never did finish her speech, since Ginny had thrown her arms around her and pulled her into a fierce hug, and both women had begun crying. Luna and Hermione smiled at each other, tears forming in their own eyes as they thought about the wedding the next day.

‘How are your wedding preparations coming on, Hermione?’ Luna asked, quite rightly diverting the attention away from Ginny and Mrs Weasley, even if her dream-like air made it seem accidental, rather than on purpose.

‘Oh…um… Fred and I have decided to wait until after Ginny’s wedding, before we discuss anything.’ She fibbed quickly, despite Fleur cocking an eyebrow at her.

‘I am glad I shall not be the only new member of zee Weasley family any more, at least.’ She smiled friendlily at Hermione. ‘I zink Molly needs anuzzer daughter to spoil!’ she laughed.

‘I’m not sure about that!’ Hermione laughed, ‘I don’t know how much more of Molly’s cooking my waistline could take.

‘Don’t be absurd, Hermione.’ Fleur flicked her blonde hair over one shoulder. ‘You have a lovely figure.’

Hermione grinned, rather mollified. ‘What about you, Luna? Have you made any arrangements yet?’

‘Oh, yes, some. Neville and I will have a quiet ceremony, I think. Then we’re going to Sweden, for our honeymoon, to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!’

Fleur snorted, but Hermione smiled gently. ‘That sounds lovely, Luna.’

Ginny and Molly re-joined the conversation at that point, having got over their emotional moment.

After eating their fill of the afternoon tea, the girls headed back to the Burrow to get ready for the evening. Molly was pressed by Hermione and Ginny to come out for dinner with them, but Molly was insistent that they _didn’t want their old Mum there ruining all the fun_ , so they headed off without her.

The bar was luxury beyond anything Hermione had expected, looking more like an upscale hotel than anything else. Some others joined them for dinner and drinks, Angelina, and a few other girls whom Ginny had known at Hogwarts. It was after their exquisite dinner, and several batches of cocktails, almost all of which involved firewhiskey, that the lights dimmed and a man stepped onto the stage, which their table was next too.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Witches and Wizards all. We have a rather special occasion this evening, as Miss Ginevra Weasley –’ cue shouts and laughter from the girls’ table, ‘is on her hen do!’ More cheers and whistles, this time from the other patrons as well as Ginny’s own party. ‘And therefore, her hens have brought her a little gift, to say goodbye to single life…Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Weasley, I give you your wedding gift!’

Ginny’s look of confusion turned to one of utmost embarrassment, mixed with a lot of laughter as a handsome male danced onto the stage to the strains of ‘You can leave your hat on.’

‘I am _so_ glad my mother isn’t here!’ Ginny screamed as a hat was flung her way…

 

 _Meanwhile_  ‘Guys, seriously, we need to hurry or we’re never going to get to… _the next place_ … in time!’

‘Wha?’ Harry had heard the words next place and was immediately confused. ‘We’ve been to like… five billion bars already!’ He slurred.

‘Ah, my dear Mr Potter, you really think we’d let you marry our sister without giving you a proper send off?!’ George exclaimed, looking heartbroken at the idea. Harry wasn’t far off, though. They had completed a pub crawl of London in record time, and Harry was sincerely hoping they had some Pepper-up potion prepared for him when they got home…

He sighed as they apparated to a field, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.  Surely, nothing bad can happen in a field?

Two hours of drunken, hilarious paintballing later, Harry realised how wrong he was. He was in pain in places he didn’t know it was physically possible to be in pain, and he was pretty sure when he took off his clothes he would be stained top to toe with orange paint.

‘This stuff better come out of my hair. Ginny will not be pleased.’

‘Ah, cheer up Harry!’ George said, smashing a final orange paintball onto Harry’s once-black hair.

‘Yeah, we’re just making you fit in!’ Fred sidled up close, laughing as Harry frantically tried to dislodge the paint.

‘You are going to be a Weasley, after all.’

‘Bloody hell, mate!’ Ron smirked. ‘Ginny’s going to kill you if you turn up tomorrow like that!’

 

Unfortunately for Harry, the next day, no matter how much he washed his hair, it stayed resolutely orange.

He was groaning about his inevitable death by Bat-Bogey Hex to a _very_ unsympathetic Ron, who apparently thought the _certain, slow and painful death_ of his best friend was actually hilarious when an irate Hermione stormed into the room, wearing nothing but a dressing robe and some hair pins, wand drawn. 

‘RIGHT! I just overheard Bill and Charlie laughing about the state of your – oh dear god your hair, Harry!’

‘What about it, Hermione? Oh, you mean the fact it’s _BLOODY ORANGE_?’

She couldn’t help herself, and a small chuckle escaped her. ‘Oh, Ginny’s going to murder you!’ Attempting not to laugh again, she turned to the twins, who were lounging in their tuxedos, eating truffles. ‘I’m holding you two personally responsible for this!’

Fred and George looked at each other.

‘Oh, now, now Hermione…’ George began, sidling up to her and flinging and arm around her shoulder ‘We only put a little bit of paint in his hair…’

‘Yeah, come on Granger,’ Fred continued, echoing his brother’s movements. ‘How were we to know that it was charmed to be a long-term colour?’ He asked, innocently popping another truffle in his mouth.

‘Oh, you two are for it if Ginny sees him!’

‘Ah, Hermione, we know you can fix it…’

‘In fact, the only reason we haven’t done anything about it…’

‘Is to have the pleasure of your company for a couple of moments.’ Fred finished sweetly, smiling at the look of exasperation on his future wife’s face.

‘If I didn’t have to marry you Fred Weasley, I’d hex that smirk off your face right now.’

‘HANG ON A MERLIN LOVING MINUTE!’ Harry interrupted. ‘You mean to tell me that you’ve known how to fix my hair all this time, and you’ve done nothing about it?’

‘Erm, actually… we don’t.’ George admitted. ‘We just knew Hermione would. She knows everything.’

‘Oh, really?’ She crossed her arms. ‘And what if I refused to help? I do actually have a lot to do this morning… being maid of honour and all that…’ she began to walk towards the door.

‘Ah, go on ’Mione, you can’t let the Boy-Who-Lived die on his wedding day.’ Ron pleaded. She waited until she was at the door before turning and smiling, performing the magic silently. Harry’s hair turned back to raven black, and she left the room, shaking her head.

 

A few hours later, and a nervous looking Harry was stood at the far end of a marquee, erected in the garden of the Burrow for such occasions. The guests were seated, the calla lilies and roses, all a deep purple, were giving off a heady scent. Ron was stood next to him, muttering what Harry assumed was meant to be encouraging words. He couldn’t hear anything, not Ron or the murmuring of the guests, let alone the music provided by the harpist. His hands were starting to sweat, and in the corner of his eye he could see Fred and George whispering together, which was making him more even more nervous than he already was. The pompous looking Ministry official, bedecked in the white robes symbolising a wedding, was looking bored. Harry stared very hard at a small pink beetle that had landed on the official’s shoulder. He was beginning to feel sick.

Suddenly, a hard poke in the ribs from Ron’s elbow awoke him from his reverie. The music and chatter sprang to life in his ears and he could hear the music Ginny had chosen for her walk down the aisle. He counted to five, slowly, trying to swallow his nerves before turning to look at his bride.

When he did, he thought he was going to faint. She was there, which was one thing. And looking happy, which meant she either didn’t know about his hair, or had forgiven all, which was another thing. And she looked

‘So beautiful,’ he whispered as she made her way to stand next to him. Dimly, he could see Fleur, Luna and Hermione following after her, in deep purple dresses, but all he could concentrate on was Ginny.

As they reached the front of the marquee, George lazily told Fred to close his mouth, before he ate a beetle. Fred blushed scarlet.

‘I’m warm, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, she does look quite hot in that little number.’ Fred hit him.

 

The ceremony went off without a hitch, and before long Harry was kissing Mrs Ginevra Potter, and a small cloud of Weasley’s Wildfire Whizbangs went off in the background, matching, Hermione was pleased to note, the purple colour scheme.

The food was wonderful, the band played on. Ron danced with Tris, or at least that’s what everyone assumed he was trying to do. She didn’t seem to mind, no matter how often he trod on her toes.  Luna was dancing alone in the centre of the floor, looking for all the world like she was fighting off some invisible being.

 _Which she may well be doing_ , Hermione giggled.

‘Hey, Granger.’ Fred announced, plonking himself down in the seat next to her. ‘Not dancing?’

‘I’ve just got off the floor. My feet are killing me.’

They made small talk for a while, both of them falling into the relationship they had prior to the Statue’s shock announcement – which was mostly Fred cracking jokes and Hermione pretending to disapprove.

‘The fireworks were lovely, by the way.’

‘I’m glad you liked them. I always wanted lots of fireworks at my wedding but…’

‘But what?’

Fred shrugged, before making another comment about Ron’s dancing being comparable to a walrus.

Hermione laughed before reproving him. ‘You shouldn’t be that awful to him!’

‘Ah, he’s alright. He’s just… Ron, I guess!’

‘I suppose that’s why me and him just never worked.’

Fred frowned. ‘You don’t…miss him, do you?’

Hermione hastened to reassure him. ‘No, no I don’t. And I’m definitely glad he got pared with someone as nice as Tris.’

‘And glad you got matched with someone as handsome as me?’ he winked. Hermione laughed.

The song changed, moving to a much slower rhythm, and the couples on the floor paired off, moving slowly around the floor.

‘Come on then, Granger.’ Fred stood up, holding out his hand to her.

‘What?!’ Hermione looked shocked.

‘I’m offering to dance with you, not run away and get married. Well, not right this second!’ he joked.

‘I suppose we are engaged, so I can permit that.’ She joked back, shocking him with a wink.

As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt tears prick her eyes, although she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and tried not to think of the pain in her feet. It was a remarkably nice feeling, she thought, dancing with someone who didn’t stand on her feet all the time. She giggled, thinking about the few times Ron had danced with her.

On the other side of the dancefloor, Molly Weasley smiled at Arthur. ‘I can’t believe they’re all getting married…’

‘They are rather grown up. A bit too grown up, some of them. The war did that to them.’

‘But they’re safe now. They’re all safe and part of this family. And they’re all getting married. What are we going to do when they’re all gone?’

Arthur smiled and held his wife closer.

 


	6. For Fred

Four days had passed since the Weasley family had waved Harry and Ginny Potter off to their honeymoon in Cape Verde. Hermione had officially moved out of the Burrow, and was back with her parents whilst she flat hunted, feeling in any case that she might need the support of her mother in what was likely to be a trying few weeks. Now, she sat at the desk her parents had installed in her old childhood bedroom, staring at the letter she had re-written three times.

_ Dear Fred, _

_ I realize this probably isn't the most romantic way to start our married life, but I also realize we have an awful lot we should discuss and plan within the next few weeks. I was wondering if I could meet you for a coffee at some point next week, so we can discuss everything. Also, if it is quite convenient, my parents would like to meet you before we get married – they've invited you over for dinner, any time this month when you are free. We can discuss arrangements when we meet. _

_ All the best, _

_ Hermione. _

She sighed. It all sounded rather formal, not anything like the love letters she had dreamed as a child would be sent to and from her future husband. She tied the letter to the leg of her new owl, Titania, and gave her a treat before opening the window for her to deliver the letter. She sighed again and checked her watch, eyes opening in surprise at how late it had become. She had work in the morning, so shouted goodnight to her parents and got ready for bed. Her thoughts drifted to Fred, wondering how he was coping with everything. She hadn't seen him since Ginny and Harry's wedding, but was pleased that at least there they had been able to talk as friends. It was a start, at least.

Across London, Fred sat on the couch in the flat he shared with George, idly flicking through a book, but not really taking in the plotline. His twin was out on a date with Angelina Johnson, paving the way to the romantic relationship he was hoping to cultivate. His thoughts were wandering when the knocking on the window awoke him from his daydreams. He let the fluffy little tawny owl in, and smiled as it settled its feathers contentedly.

'Hey pretty lady, who are you from then?' He untied the tightly scrolled letter, noting Hermione's cursive handwriting. 'Ah, a pretty lady from a pretty lady then, eh? Well, hang on just a minute, I might want to reply.'

After reading Hermione's admittedly rather formal sounding letter, he scrawled off a reply.

_ Granger, _

_ I'd love to meet you for coffee. I have a day off from work on Tuesday, fancy meeting outside the shop at 11? Also, regarding dinner with your parents, I'd love to come -providing your father doesn't try to murder me with one of those Muggle wands that they're always trying to kill each other with! Promise I'll be on my best behaviour, and will only bring one Canary Cream with me! _

_ See you next week, _

_ Hubby-to-be! _

_ P.S. Cute little owl you've got – seemed right at home (and she wouldn't leave 'till I gave her a treat – cheeky bugger!) _

He tied the letter to the little owl's leg, hoping that he could at least make her smile a little bit. He could practically feel the tension in her letter.

He looked at his book, considering attempting to re-read the parts which he had quite obviously missed. He decided against it, making his way to his bedroom instead. _That's one thing we'll need to discuss – where we're going to live…_ he thought, adding it to a mental list.

The rest of the week flew by, and Tuesday soon dawned, bright and cold, the sort of day Hermione loved. After her morning shower, she sat staring at her wardrobe for a while. What exactly does one wear to meet one's fiancé for coffee, especially when that fiancé is someone who you don't really know.

_ Oh, Merlin's beard. _ __ She thought, grabbing some jeans and plain back jumper. _This will do!_

As she brushed out her hair, she changed her mind about the top twice, eventually going back to her original decision, after deciding it didn't _actually_ matter. A pretty necklace and a slick of clear lipgloss later and she apparated directly to The Leaky Cauldron. As she was winding her way through the unusually large crowd, aware she was slightly early, Fred was panicking.

'GEORGE!' he bellowed for the fifth time.

'WHAT? WE'RE KIND OF BUSY DOWN HERE!' His twin yelled back, popping his head around the stairwell.

'Does this shirt look okay?' Fred asked. George laughed, until he noticed the deathly serious look on Fred's face.

'You are kidding me, Fred? I mean, I know I'm the better looking twin, but really?'

'Look, I'm meeting Hermione in…' he looked at his watch, 'three minutes. And I want to make sure she doesn't think I look like a troll, okay.'

'You know what, you need help, mate. She can't resist the Weasley charm, right?'

Fred nodded and walked down the stairs, looking for all the world like he was going to the gallows rather than coffee. George grabbed him by the arm as he passed by.

'Seriously, Fred. Calm down. You look like you're going to puke. And that's not the way to a woman's heart. Trust me.'

Hermione was standing outside as Fred went to meet her, intently studying the bright yellow window display.

'Granger!' He shouted to get her attention above the hubbub. She span around, smiling at him.

'Hi there!'

They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of them sure if they should shake hands, hug, or what.

'So… coffee?' He eventually broke the ice. She smiled.

'Absolutely.'

'You look lovely, by the way.'

She wrinkled her nose slightly, in happy acceptance of the compliment. 'Thank you.'

They made their way in slightly awkward silence to one of the sweet coffee shops that were dotted about Diagon Alley. It was mercifully quiet, and they found a small table by the window. The young waitress came over to take their order.

'I'll have a vanilla latte.' Hermione smiled, not even looking at the menu. Fred was scanning it quickly.

'Ooh! I'll try the chilli hot chocolate, please!' He grinned, sticking the laminated card back in the holder. The silence continued as they waited for their drinks to be brought over, which was luckily quite quickly. Feeling relieved that she had something to do, Hermione sipped her drink, despite the fact it was clearly too hot.

'So. I guess we're getting married.' Fred said, needing to break the tension that was growing. He never could stand a silence.

'Yeah… I was thinking July? That way it's not too soon, and it's after your birthday…'

'You know when my birthday is?'

'April Fool's day. Of course.'

The tips of Fred's ears went slightly pink.

'July is fine.' Remembering the mental list he had been making, he asked his own question. 'Where do you want to live? I think George is planning to move out to Angelina's place, so there's always the flat. But obviously if you wanted to move elsewhere…'

'The flat above your shop?

'Yes. I know it's not exactly a romantic haven…but it would be convenient for both of us.'

'That sounds great, Fred.'

They smiled for a moment, sipping at their drinks, both feeling remarkably relaxed.

'Where?' Hermione asked. 'Shall we get married, I mean?'

'Oh god!' Fred went wide-eyed. 'I have no idea. Do you have a venue? Girls usually have a venue right?'

'FRED! Actually I don't… the venue actually didn't play too big a part in my childhood dreams of weddings. Besides, I didn't have them too often... I was usually reading, of course.'

Fred laughed. 'I have somewhere in mind… If you'd like to visit it, at some point? Maybe it will save us having the wedding in the garden, like the rest of the family.'

'….Thank you, Fred.' Hermione was touched. She knew that both of them were being forced into this, but his thoughtfulness was making her feel a lot better about the situation. 'That reminds me though…dinner, with my parents? They were thinking within the next fortnight or so?'

'How about a week today?'

'Perfect.' She smiled. 'Also, this is quite awkward but...when do you want me to start moving into yours? I mean do you want to live with me before we get married? I'm not sure what you'd prefer?'

Fred blushed beyond what Hermione thought humanly possible. The idea of living with her was quite overwhelming.

'Well George is getting married on…' he dug out a scrap of paper, '8th June. Apparently. And I think he said he was going to move out a week before, so the beginning of June, I suppose. We should probably get to know each other before the wedding!' he blushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

'Okay…' Hermione fished out a notepad. 'So I can move in the 2nd or 3rd of June maybe? Then we could get married maybe in the second week of July? That should give us enough time… to get to know one another…' she felt her own cheeks going pink and hid behind the last of her latte.

'Right. Okay. 3rd of June.' He latched automatically onto the later date, the terror settling in slightly.

'Good. Right. Well, I should…' She made to grab her things, sensing the tension.

'Yes. Definitely. Lots to do.' He stood up at the same time she did. He put down enough coins on the table to cover the cost of their coffee and they were on their way out back into the thinning crowds of Diagon Alley.

She walked with him back to his shop.

'Well, goodbye. Thank you for coffee. I do feel a lot better now we've got everything sorted.'

'Yeah, me too, Granger. We'll make this work just fine.'

'Yeah… well, see you!'

She began to walk away.

'Hey! Granger!' He called after her. She span around, curls flying. 'You wanna go out for dinner? Say Saturday, eight o'clock?'

'Did you just ask me on a _date_ Fred Weasley?'

'And you just said yes, Granger.' He turned to walk into the shop.

'I did _not_ say yes!'

He turned back around. 'Well, did you say no?'

She blushed.

'My point exactly, Granger. Saturday night!'

She shook her head. Her fiancé was insufferable.

When Saturday arrived, Hermione spent the early part of the afternoon with her head in the fireplace, talking to Ginny, and the greater part of the later evening with Ginny's head in her wardrobe, promptly disregarding all of Hermione's clothes.

'Well I must have _something_ that's suitable. It's only dinner.'

'I can't believe I'm getting you ready for a date with _Fred._ My _brother_ , Fred. _My older brother Fred._ '

'I am aware the situation is bizarre, Ginevra.'

'Alright, Mum.' She turned around to stick her tongue out. Hermione was taming her hair with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and a jet of hot air from her wand.

Ginny eventually gave an outraged cry. 'THIS!' she pulled a simple grey shift dress out. 'Will HAVE to do. With some minor alterations…' She reached for her wand.

'HEY! I like that dress.'

'It makes you look like a librarian.' Hermione's face crumpled. 'I mean, like a pretty one. But it's not exactly 'date' material.'

'I know what you mean, I'm teasing.' Hermione smiled. 'I know my general 'look' isn't exactly Marilyn Monroe.'

'Who?' Ginny looked puzzled.

'But just what are you doing to that dress?!'

'You'll see. You make yourself beautiful.' Ginny smiled mysteriously, before a revolted look crossed her face. 'Make yourself beautiful for _Fred_ …' she muttered.


	7. Not such a bad thing, really

A while later, Ginny opened the door to a _very_ surprised Fred.

‘I’m… here for… _What are you doing here?!_ ’ he asked.

‘I’ve been beautifying your fiancé, so you have me to thank for how gorgeous she looks. She’s just grabbing a bag then she’ll be out.’ Fred nodded. ‘And I’m watching you Fred Weasley… No _funny business_!’

Fred burst out laughing. ‘You sound like our dear brother Ronald.’ Ginny blushed scarlet. ‘Besides,’ he leant on the doorframe. ‘Would that be the same _funny business_ I caught you and Harry engaging in in Dad’s toolshed?’

‘Who was doing what with Harry in Arthur’s toolshed?’ Hermione had caught the end of the conversation.

‘Hermione!’ Fred pushed past Ginny. ‘… wow! You look, erm… amazing. Wow.’  

Ginny took an extravagant bow. ‘And my work here is done!’ she announced, turning on the spot to apparate back to her own house.

Hermione had gone pink. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘You look very dapper!’ she exclaimed when she noticed his tux.

They stood awkwardly for a moment. ‘Where are we going for dinner?’ Hermione asked.

‘Oh! Yeah! Well, let me show you, it’ll be easier!’ Fred led her outside, where she locked the door before taking his arm for Side-Along Apparition.

The sun was just beginning to set over the water as Hermione and Fred landed, slightly uncomfortably (Side-Along Apparition was _not_ the best way to travel, Hermione noted).

‘I hope you like it.’ Fred said, quietly, the beauty of the landscape around them hushing even him. ‘You know I said I had somewhere in mind… A venue, I mean?’

‘You meant here?’ Hermione turned to him at last, eyes shining. ‘Fred it’s _beautiful_.’

In front of them was a vast lake, so large Hermione could barely make out the other side. A few rowing boats lazily glided across the water, like dragonflies in summer heat.

‘How did you find out about this place?’

‘It was during the war.’ Fred’s voice had gotten low, Hermione had to strain to hear him. ‘It was… it was hard on George and me. It was hard on everyone, I know. But we were the cheerful ones in the midst of it all I guess. But sometimes we just needed somewhere to think. And one day, of all people, Loony… I mean Luna… Luna Lovegood, she came into the shop, and she did that thing, you know, that she does, where she says almost exactly the right thing without sounding like she has any idea? She just came up to buy something from me, and said: “You should try going to Meer Alexander.” So we did. And we kept on coming her, whenever we needed the time to relax.’

Hermione remained silent. She had never thought about Fred in that way, which she realised was awful. About how he and George had kept going through the war, keeping their absurdly brilliant, vibrant shop open all the way, probably nearly getting themselves in as much trouble as her, Ron, and Harry had done.

‘Right over there, on that little island in the middle? There’s a church – an old muggle one, so old it’s not even a real church anymore, just a venue. I thought maybe that would be a good place? It’s not huge, but it’s enough, I think.’

‘Yes. Oh of course yes. Fred, it’s _lovely_.’ The silence hung for a moment, but for once it wasn’t awkward, before Fred’s stomach growled.

‘Sorry, have barely eaten all day! Starving!’ The both giggled,  before Hermione glanced around with a confused look on her face.

‘But where are we having dinner?’ She asked, puzzled at the lack of a restaurant.

‘Ah, that’s just a little ways over here.’ He grinned, Hermione feeling slightly nervous at the glint in his eyes. He took her arm and they walked a small distance around the lake. ‘Here we go!’ he announced, at an apparently inconspicuous piece of grass.

‘What?’

‘Close your eyes, ’Mione.’

‘You’re not going to hex me, are you?’

‘Why on earth would I hex you?’

‘I don’t know, it just seemed a very… _you_ … thing to do!’

‘Trust me, okay?’ He took both of her hands. ‘Just close your eyes. Five seconds. That’s all.’

‘Fine…But I’m telling you I don’t like this…’ she gently shut her eyes, and began counting out loud.

‘Five!’ Fred said with her. ‘Open your eyes!’  Hermione did so, a sense of relief filling her that she had (thus far) not been hexed or otherwise pranked by Fred.

‘How did you get changed so quickly?’ She exclaimed, as Fred now stood in front of her in a full waiter’s costume, gesturing to a small table for two that had been set up, with two fire pits nearby giving off a beautiful warmth.

‘Well, Granger, I know I’m the better looking one, and we all know you’d rather marry me, but your actual fiancé is just…’ he turned, and Hermione saw Fred holding out a chair for her.

‘Oh gosh! I’m so sorry George!’

‘No worries, Granger. May I take you to your table?’ He finished with a flourishing bow and a wink.

Once seated, George summoned the food from wherever it had been left, and poured wine for the couple.

‘I just want you to know,’ he informed Hermione as he poured her a glass of something _very_ sparkly. ‘That Fred is paying me an _absurd_ amount of money to do this. I am here under protest.’ He winked again, as Hermione giggled.

‘You _really_ didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Fred.’

‘I know. But I wanted us to get to know each other. Properly. Not just as Hermione ‘Book-worm’ Granger, and Fred ‘Handsome Devil’ Weasley.’ Now it was _Fred_ ’s turn to wink. Hermione grimaced. She needed to get used to his lack of tact at times. But she knew he meant well.

‘Okay, so should we ask each other questions or something?’ She asked, taking a bite of her food before exclaiming with delight. ‘First question – how did you know my favourite food?!’

‘Harry and Ginny helped. I asked Ron to start with but he just did his usual monkey impression – ‘Uh.. uhh.. Chocolate?’

Hermione snorted. ‘Figures… Sorry, that was unkind.’  She apologized, remembering they were still brothers, after all.

‘So, my question?’

‘Go right ahead…’

‘Favourite colour?’

‘Peach. Yours?’

‘Blue. Like, ocean blue.’

‘Why did you and Ron break up?’

Hermione remained silent for so long Fred feared he’d offended her.

‘Sorry, that was a stupid thing to ask… Um, hang on I’ll think of another.’

‘It’s fine, we’re engaged, we’re going to know every little detail about each other soon enough!’ Hermione sighed, and put down her fork. ‘I guess we were just… incompatible. I have rather a lot of ambition – there are serious changes that need to be made at the Ministry, and they’re only going to be achieved from within the Ministry.’

‘You’re a bit of a revolutionary, aren’t you?’

She chucked. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. We need to educate our children better, to stop _awful_ things like the War happening. Education is the single most important thing in our lives, and if people like _Umbridge_ can be allowed to teach then something seriously needs changing!’

‘You probably don’t think much of George and I, then?’

‘Wha-? Why would I think badly of you?’

‘Well, we did sort of destroy the school. We didn’t get any N.E.W.Ts. Barely got any O.W.Ls. Disrupted examinations. I could go on.’ Fred was toying with his risotto, pushing it around his plate.

‘You think that I’m that much of a snob?’

‘No! Not a snob… just… _academic_.’

‘Good! Because I _am_ academic. I always have been, even when I was a child. Before I got into Hogwarts, my primary school teachers were talking about me going to one of the best Muggle Universities eventually. But I would _never_ look down on you – or anyone – if they weren’t necessarily as academic as me…’ She sighed. ‘You _are_ clever Fred. Look at your shop, look at all the magic you do to create your products. It’s advanced! I probably wouldn’t manage some of it, and to be honest I probably don’t even know the _theory_ of some of it. Just because your skills are directed in a different way than mine does not make them any less valid.’

‘Thank you.’

‘If you think that badly of me, Fred Weasley, you’re going to have to re-evaluate your conceptions of me before we get married.’ She took a slightly angry mouthful of food.

They both ate for a while, before Fred observed ‘It’s your question, Granger.’ He smiled at her, slightly gingerly, aware that he was probably still on thin ice, but breathed a sigh of relief when she smiled back, a little begrudgingly at first perhaps, but a start.

‘Do you think I’m attractive?’ Fred had chosen that moment to take a mouthful of wine, most of which he choked on.

‘Ex… Excuse me?’

‘It’s a simple enough question Mr. Weasley.’ Hermione smartly took a sip of her own wine. ‘Do you think I’m attractive? You can be quite honest with me.’

Fred’s eyes were wide, in shock and something like fear. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Granger… Before this whole marriage law farce, I’d never looked at you as anything other than Harry Potter’s brilliantly smart, somewhat bossy, best friend.’ He chuckled, and reached for her hand across the table. ‘You were always on my radar at school, but mostly because George and I were terrified of you telling us off – you’re scary at times, Granger, you know?’

Hermione nodded. ‘I’ve come to realise that I occasionally come across as somewhat authoritative…’

‘But I’ve _had_ to look at you now, since we’re going to get married in just a few weeks really. And, again I’ll be honest, I’m glad I’ve been matched with you. You’ve grown up, Granger, and you’re very pretty, when you stop being angry with me! And you look _beautiful_ in that dress, which I’m assuming Ginny made you wear, but you know when you looked most beautiful?’ She shook her head. ‘When we danced at Ginny’s wedding. You looked… content. And thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve seen you look that way since the war. I’m not sure any of us _have_ looked that way, to be honest…’

‘It was…hard. The war I mean. On all of us.’ She squeezed the hand that held hers. ‘I still, occasionally, get nightmares, or flashbacks. To everything that happened, before the battle and during it. When I think of all the people that we lost…’

‘Me too.’

They unclasped hands and finished their food in silence, lost in their own memories. When they’d put down their cutlery, Hermione reminded Fred that he still needed to ask his question.

‘But maybe we should make this the last one? I’m pretty beat.’ She said, stifling a yawn.

Fred grinned. ‘Let me walk – well, apparate – you home, Ms. Granger.’ He stood up and proffered his arm. Hermione winced.

‘Not a fan of side-along apparition, then?’

‘Not particularly.’ Fred just laughed and held her close beside him, turning into the night.

They landed with less of a thud than before, outside Hermione’s front door.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Fred. Dinner was perfect.’

‘Good. I’m glad. Maybe we should do it again? A date, I mean?’

‘I think that sounds like a good idea.’ She smiled softly at him.

‘Oh!’ Fred almost yelled. ‘I haven’t asked my last question yet.’

‘Well?’

‘Do you, Hermione Granger, find me attractive?’ He laughed at the shocked look on her face, knowing how she felt to be put on the spot. ‘I’m only joking, Granger.’ The shock faded to relief. ‘I know you fancy the pants off me!’

‘FRED!’ Hermione was blushing.

‘Ah, don’t worry Granger.’ Fred said softly, as he leaned in close. ‘I can’t say I blame you.’ He kissed her on the lips quickly, but tenderly. ‘Owl me some times when you’re free? You can decide where to go next time, Granger.’ He laughed, standing back and apparated back to his flat, the feel of her lips still on his.

Hermione stood shell shocked for a moment, before turning and unlocking her door, shaking her head, but smiling.

Her mother called down to her: ‘How did it go, Hermione dear?’

‘It was… yeah, it was lovely.’ She called back. _I mean, he’s still Fred Weasley through and through._ She thought as she changed for bed. _But maybe that’s not such a bad thing, really._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is a super long chapter. I did toy many times with cutting into two, but I just couldn't bring myself to - there really isn't an appropriate place I think - hope it's not too off-putting!
> 
> Enjoy, my favourite, dear Reader,
> 
> L_M_D

As expected, after work the next day, Ginny had floo’d straight to Hermione’s house for a catch up. Hermione stirred Ginny’s coffee, chucked her own tea bag in the bin, and, passing the coffee mug to Ginny, settled on the sofa with her feet under her. She took a sip of tea, despite it being far too hot, and sighed. It had been a _long_ day at work.

After a moment of looking expectantly at Hermione, Ginny burst. ‘So? Are you and my brother happily getting married soon or no?’

‘Well, we’re getting married. And I think as happy as we can be, in the situation.’ She briefly described their date, Ginny snorting loudly when she got to their minor argument about Fred’s beliefs about Hermione’s opinion of him.

‘Well, he didn’t bugger up too much, at least.’

‘It was a lovely evening. A good first date.’ Hermione smiled. ‘I’m happy, Ginny. For the first time in a while, I’m happy.’

Ginny smiled and placed a hand on Hermione’s arm. ‘You deserve it, ’Mione.’

 

The months flew by, with Fred and Hermione both busy at work, they soon found it was the end of May before they had realised April had even begun. They had gone on a few more dates, the second to a bookstore (Hermione’s choice, at which Fred had brought her a beautiful copy of her favourite book, just because of the way her eyes had lit up on seeing it), the third to a comedy show (Fred’s idea, but at which Hermione had laughed until the tears had rolled down her eyes), the fourth date was to a museum (which Fred hadn’t found overly thrilling, but Hermione had loved it), and the fifth to London Zoo, somewhere Fred had always wanted to go (but which somehow got Hermione on a soap box about House-Elf emancipation – Fred had tried to follow, but it all got a little complicated, especially since he’d then suffered brain freeze as a result of eating his ice cream with too much vigor.). Now it was the final week of May and they had finally found a Friday evening free for what would most likely be their last ‘date’ before they moved in together. It was Hermione’s choice, and, after she noticed his slightly dazed expression after she’d explained the ins-and-outs of the pro-House-Elf emancipation movement, she decided somewhere less… provoking… might be best (although, she noted with a smile, he had at least _tried_ to enter the discussion, and at least hadn’t ignored or mocked her). So she chose bowling. Fred had agreed quite happily – throwing balls really hard at pins was a _fascinating_ choice of sport, when you really thought about it – Muggles had such an odd sense of fun. They were lacing up their blue-and-red bowling shoes, Fred’s large feet making him resemble an old-fashioned clown in his. Making their way to the lane they engaged happily in chat about their day, and, contentedly laughing about the inevitable move-in day the following week. Their good natured chat continued as Hermione set up their lane to bowl, putting their names as F. Weasley and H. Weasley:

‘I’ve got to get used to it somehow!’ she laughed, as Fred sent an inquisitive look over his shoulder, as he took an unaccountably long time choosing his bowling ball. Once he had made his selection, he made his way back over to Hermione, who had chosen the same weight she always chose.

‘I think it sounds alright though – Hermione Weasley. Mum’ll be pleased, at least. I think she’s had the hand for the clock ready since you and Ronnikins were together!’

They both laughed, and began to bowl. Fred was terrible, which he jokingly (mostly) insisted because Hermione had cursed him: ‘ _you witch!’_   he accused. After Hermione had won several turns in a row, Fred resorted to dirty tactics. Just as Hermione lined up, looking quite set to get yet another strike, he gently placed his hands on her hips and kissed the back of her neck, exposed by the curly ponytail she had put her hair into earlier in the evening.

‘ _Fred!_ ’ she yelped, letting go of the bowling ball, which went spinning to the gutter at the side of the alley.

‘Couldn’t resist, Granger…’ He winked. She laughed and hit his chest lightly.

‘You just didn’t want me to win!’

‘… Yeah, that too.’ He admitted with a grin. ‘But you do look lovely, as ever.’ He bent his head to place a kiss on her lips, something he found himself doing as much as possible on the few dates they’d had together.

‘I’ll forgive you this time, Weasley.’ She mock-glared at him. ‘But just this time mind!’

A few hours later, after Hermione had roundly thrashed Fred at bowling, they walked through the streets of London, a bag of chips in Fred’s hand, which Hermione occasionally dipped into.

‘I had a good night, Granger.’ Fred smiled, as they neared Hermione’s house.

‘Me too, Fred.’

They reached Hermione’s house, and Fred kissed her again. ‘I’ll see you next week. Moving in day!’ Hermione let out a weak laugh.

‘Don’t worry, Granger. I promise I don’t bite.’

‘I know. I’m just nervous, you know. I’ve never lived with a guy. Except that tent with Harry and Ron, and that is an experience I would rather _not_ repeat.’

‘Feel sorry for me! I lived with Ginny _and_ Ron! For _years_!’

They both giggled, before Hermione stood on her tip toes slightly, to kiss Fred once again. ‘I’ll see you next week.’ She smiled, pinching a final chip before heading inside.

 

Back at the flat later that night, Fred looked around the home he had once shared with his brother. George had already moved to Angelina’s place, so the place looked comparatively quiet. Notebooks were spread on the dining room table, with hundreds of joke ideas ready for experimentation for the shop littered over the pages. He had left the day’s washing up to do when he got in, but did it by magic rather than hand, since he was feeling too lazy. The violently bright blue sofa would probably have to be changed, he reasoned. Hermione would no doubt want to make the place her own. As the thought crossed his mind he felt more conflicted than he had for some weeks now. _It just wasn’t fair_. Not that he minded marrying Hermione, and was glad they got along, but he was being forced into something years before he’d even envisioned it. And he was giving up living with his brother, with _George_ , who he’d always lived with. He’d known one day they’d move out and in with other people, but they were so _young_. His mind flitted back to his date with Hermione, though, and he smiled briefly. They’d managed to get on so far though, and she _had_ just kissed him, which was definitely a positive end to any date. But she was moving in _next week_. He’d never really thought about it a lot, but thinking about it now, he’d always assumed he’d have gone on slightly more than _five_ dates with someone before moving in with them. _Regulation of the Magical population, indeed,_ he thought.

He went to bed feeling more confused than ever. On the one hand, he’d just had what he could only describe as a great fifth date, and he was sure Hermione and he would be able to get along quite well, plus, he was beginning to realise that he found her both intelligent, and incredibly attractive. Even her still slightly know-it-all ways were actually endearing to him now. On the other, he was getting married. In just over a month. He was moving in with a girl he barely knew, other than the basics, favourite colour, food, book. Still, there was nothing to do now but sort out the flat, which was his job over the weekend, and move in with Hermione Granger.

The weekend went quicker than he expected, and suddenly it was 8am on the 3rd of June, and Fred was stood outside Hermione Granger’s childhood home, dressed in an old pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, and ready to move all of her belongings to what was now to be _their_ flat. Hermione was hugging her emotional looking parents, Mr Granger looking at Fred in a mildly threatening manner. Boxes and suitcases were piled up between Fred and the family in front of him.

‘Honestly, Mum, I’m not moving far away, I’m just moving across the city!’

‘I know.’ Sniffed Mrs Granger, ‘I’m just your mother dear. I’m happy for you, I really am.’ She smiled encouragingly at Fred over the boxes. After saying a final goodbye, Hermione and Fred simultaneously waved their wands over the boxes, shrinking them and reducing their weight so they could be transported more easily. They both grabbed an equal share, and apparated individually (which was much more to Hermione’s taste) to their flat. Hermione had been to the flat for coffee after their date to London Zoo, but it had never really sunk in that she would be living there until they dropped her luggage on the floor to the startlingly bright lounge.

‘I know you probably want to make a lot of changes…’

‘Don’t be daft, Fred. I’m moving into your house. If we change anything, it’ll be because we both want to!’ She smiled, looking around at what she considered a cheerful home, if the colours clashed slightly.

‘Not even the sofa?’

She laughed. ‘The sofa can stay. Although might I suggest it would _possibly_ look better if the walls weren’t orange?’

‘What were you thinking?’

Hermione performed a simple enough spell, and the walls faded to a pale cream colour, and the carpet suddenly matched them. The sofa stayed bright blue.

‘Good enough compromise?’ She asked.

‘Definitely.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s get you unpacked.’

They unpacked together, Fred only blushing once when he accidentally opened a suitcase full of Hermione’s knickers.

‘Sorry!’ she had yelled, going red herself and slamming the suitcase lid shut. They both stared at each other for a moment before collapsing into giggles.

‘I’m so sorry!’ Fred wheezed out. ‘Next time, put a warning on there or something!’

‘Oh, does it matter! We’re living together now, you’re probably going to see me in my knickers at some point!’

Fred blushed harder than ever. But Hermione laughed, and turned to another box.

They finished unpacking hours later, tired, their faces hurting from laughing and talking for so long. Hermione didn’t think that unpacking was meant to be so much fun, but it was. Finding cubby holes to store her shoes, putting up more shelves than Fred had thought possible to house her books, some of which were still sat in piles on the floor ready to find a home. They’d magically extended Fred’s wardrobe to fit all of Hermione’s clothes, and struggled manually with flat-pack Ikea drawers until Hermione had crossly given in and done it with one simple wand movement. They had stopped for lunch around one, taking a couple of hours to wander Diagon Alley, settling for the same café where they had what they called their ‘first date’, wondering how it could feel so long ago. At the end of the day they collapsed together on the sofa, curled into one another, with Fred’s arms wrapped around Hermione.

‘We should have dinner, really.’ He said, after they’d sat for a good half an hour in comfortable silence.

‘Oh, I just can’t be bothered to cook tonight.’

‘Take-out?’

She nodded.

Half an hour later and they apparated back to their flat from a Muggle Chinese restaurant, laughing at Fred’s confusion over the Muggle money they had used to pay. Setting the containers on the coffee table in the lounge, Hermione conjured some bright blue bean bags and settled comfortably at one end, cross legged. Fred did the same at the side of his soon-to-be wife, and they tucked into what turned out to be _way_ too much Chinese food.

Afterwards, nibbling at prawn crackers and the remnants of Hermione’s egg-fried rice, they discussed their plans for the week, and various things about the house.

‘Are you happy?’ Fred asked Hermione, during a lull in the conversation. She smiled at him.

‘I’m terrified, Fred. But yes, I’m happy.’

‘Good. Because I suppose now is as good a time as any for this.’ He pulled a small red box out of his jeans pocket and opened it. A delicate white gold band, with a simple princess cut diamond in the centre, was nestled inside. He clambered somewhat awkwardly off the bean bag to get onto one knee.

‘I know we’re already engaged. And I know this is probably not the proposal you’d have wanted, but…’ he slipped the ring out of the box, as Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I couldn’t think of a time to give you this, but you should have it before we get married. So, Hermione Granger, will you marry me?’

Hermione’s tears threatened to spill over, as she nodded yes, unable to speak for fear of only sobbing coming out. Fred slipped the ring onto her finger, and kissed her hand. She pulled him in for a tight hug.

‘Thank you Fred. It’s beautiful.’ She whispered.

 

It was that night when things got slightly awkward. For some reason, neither of them had thought ahead to sleeping arrangements, although they knew they had to share a bed. But when the time came, and Hermione had changed into her pyjamas, they stood on either side of it, looking awkward.

‘I just.. um.. usually sleep in my boxers. If that’s alright with you?’ Fred asked, staring at the comforter on the bed.

‘Oh. Um. Yes. Obviously. Just do what you normally would.’ Hermione concentrated on the pillow so hard Fred would later swear it began to smoulder.

Fred tentatively undressed and they climbed in side by side, barely touching. As they both lay on their backs, Hermione willing herself not to think about the athletic Quidditch player next to her.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Fred cried at last, turning onto his side to face Hermione. ‘We’ve been engaged for a while now, and I think we just made it official this evening?’ Hermione nodded as she copied his movement and faced him. ‘So we can at least sleep together comfortably. This is so weird.’ He added, as she smiled. ‘Come on and kiss me, Granger.’

And she did. Just once, sweetly and softly, before pulling away and smiling at him.

‘Merlin, Granger. When did I start fancying you so much?’ he laughed, before pulling her closer for a much fiercer kiss. Hermione moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth, and pulled her body much closer to his. Fred’s hands were soon tangled in Hermione’s hair, as hers explored the body she had noticed before. He gasped when her thumb swept over his hip, and one of his hands disentangled itself from her curls and tentatively made its way down her neck and arm. He brushed a thumb over the swell of her chest, unsure as to whether she minded, but when she groaned he grew bolder and slipped his hand under her camisole top.

A while later, after their initial passion had died down, and they had returned to tender, slow kisses, one of Fred’s hands in Hermione’s hair, the other resting lightly on her hip, Hermione stifled a yawn in between kisses.

‘Sorry, it’s been such a long day.’ She admitted with a small grin.

‘I know, Granger. I’m beat.’ Hermione moved, and turned away from Fred, pressing her back into him, so he was spooning her. Fred draped his arm over her.

‘Goodnight Fred.’ She said softly.

‘’Night Granger.’

 

They muddled along happily enough for a week or so, only bickering once or twice, and that was usually when cooking. They found they actually fitted quite well together, and spent most of their evenings in quiet relaxation, usually both of them reading. They were well and truly over the initial embarrassment of the first evening, and fell asleep quite happily together every night. They had progressed a little beyond kissing, but not much, content to get to know one another slowly, even if it was in a rather forced situation.

 On the evening of the 7th June, Hermione happily kissed Fred goodbye and waved to the boys as they took George off to his stag do. As George’s best man, Hermione assumed that he had planned something astoundingly awful for him, the night before his wedding, and knowing the boys had to be up even earlier than her to get to the venue, she made sure before she went to bed to set out a large bottle of Pepper-Up potion and two glasses, along with a note:

_Hope this helps! See you both tomorrow – Good luck, and congratulations George!_

  1. _x_



She drifted off to sleep, slightly missing the feel of Fred’s arm around her. But at about 4.30am, she heard an almighty **_crash_** in the kitchen. Springing out of bed, with her wand already out, suddenly wide awake, she crept to the source of the noise. Since the war, she knew, she had been jumpy when it came to loud noises – you never knew when it was going to be a Death Eater, ready to continue Voldemort’s work.  Relieved, however, to find that it was only a _very_ intoxicated pair of Weasley’s, she smiled slightly, hoping that they’d find the Pepper-Up potion soon. Apparently, however, the pair stumbled right to the lounge, so Hermione picked up the glasses and bottle and set them on the coffee table, saying a cheery ‘Hello!’ to the twins.

‘Granger!’ Fred announced. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I live here… How much have you _had_?’ She asked, incredulous, as George managed to fall over whilst sat on the couch, and promptly fell asleep.

‘Rather a lot!’ Fred said proudly. ‘You, by the way, look very beautiful this evening.’ He winked. ‘Wanna join me in bed?’

‘I think you should get to bed, yes.’ She caught him as he stumbled towards her. ‘Come on.’

‘Knew I’d get you in bed eventually, Granger.’

‘I’ve been sleeping next to you for a week, Fred.’

‘Yeah, but _properly_.’ He went for the wink-and-nudge and nearly fell over again.

‘Yes, that certainly won’t be happening tonight.’ Hermione tried not to feel too annoyed. He was drunk after all, and had a perfect right to be, since it was his twin’s stag do. She eventually managed to get him settled on a comfortable chair, pulled a blanket over him, and another over George, who was zonked out on the sofa.

She set up a Silencing Charm around her door, and promptly went back to sleep

When she woke up a couple of hours later, Fred and George were both gone. That, she didn’t mind. Nor did she mind that they had apparently drunk the whole Pepper-Up potion straight from the bottle. What she _did_ mind, however, was the fact that during her sleep they had managed to apparently tear the _entire_ flat inside out. Clothes, mostly hers, some Fred’s, were strewn about the floor. A mirror was broken on the bathroom floor, which Hermione only realised when in her sleepy state she stood on a rather sharp piece, which caused a series of extremely un-ladylike language to stream from her mouth. The two glasses were also smashed to pieces, and it took her the best part of an hour to locate the dress she had set aside for the next day, which was hanging in the refrigerator, and the shoes to match, which were in the microwave. _Damn Silencing Charm!_ She cursed herself. _Why did I think that was a good idea?_

Fuming, and running late for the wedding, she apparated quickly to Angelina’s chosen venue, which was a beautiful old hotel just outside of London, near her family home. The last guest to enter, she slipped into a pew besides Harry and Ron, both of whom shrank from the angry look on her face.

‘Are you alright, ’Mione?’ Harry asked, looking worried, both for her, and for his and Ron’s safety.

‘No I am not. I will be having WORDS with Fred and George after this is over. Ridiculous.’ She huffed, crossing her arms. Harry and Ron stayed silent, hoping not to antagonise her further. The ceremony was beautiful, Hermione would later admit, but she barely paid any attention, since she was staring a hole in the head of her fiancée that would kill a stone. At the wedding breakfast afterwards she was, naturally, seated with Fred, who immediately got a similar look to that sported by Harry and Ron earlier: sheer terror.

‘What’ the matter, Granger? Why were you so late? Did you sleep in?’

‘I don’t suppose you and George had a good look at the flat before you waltzed out of it this morning?’ She asked, her voice unnaturally high.

Fred shook his head, confused. ‘Nope. We just drank the Pepper-Up (thanks, by the way) and apparated straight here.’

‘Well, you can blooming well look when you get home, Fred Weasley, and don’t for a moment think I’m making the slightest effort to clean up your _mess!_ ’ she whispered dramatically, before turning to Bill, who was seated on her other side, and only talking to him for the rest of the dinner.

Once the dinner had been eaten, and the tables cleared away, and when the dancing was well underway, Hermione felt a bit silly for ignoring Fred for so long, and decided to go explain herself, _and perhaps apologise just the tiniest bit_ , she thought. Fred, however, was nowhere to be seen, as she scanned the room. Ginny and Harry were dancing wildly, Ron was locked to the lips of his soon-to-be bride, Angelina was talking to her father. Hermione made her way to the bride, briefly offering her congratulations and introducing herself to Angelina’s dad, before asking if either of them had seen Fred.

‘I think him and George went to the bar – something about Fred buying him his first drink as a married man!’ Angelina laughed.

‘Thanks – and again, congratulations Angelina. You look incredible.’ Hermione smiled warmly, heading through the crowd to the bar, which was situated in another room.

The small room was empty apart from Fred and George, who were indeed sat at the bar, their backs to the doorway. Nursing a small glass each, neither of them heard Hermione walking towards them on the soft, carpeted floor.

‘Nah, mate, seriously. You and Angelina looked so happy up there today.’ Fred sounded sad, considering the apparently optimistic sentence.

‘You’ll be alright, Gred. You and Granger have been getting on like a house on fire, lately!’

‘Yeah, but you actually _wanted_ to marry Angelina. You and me both fancied her at Hogwarts, and after!’ he chuckled slightly. ‘Hermione and I don’t want to get married.’ Hermione froze in the act of interrupting ‘I mean, alright we get along and she is pretty fit. And she’s a damn good kisser. But I don’t want to _marry_ her. I just want to live in my flat, on my own, and run the shop. Not marry some chick who barely knows me, who’s been with my _little brother_. It’s weird, you know...’

Hermione’s heart and stomach appeared to have lost themselves in the carpet as she turned sharply on her heels and marched back into the reception room.

Three hours later, and Hermione Granger was most definitely drunk. She was dancing, _and throwing some seriously good moves too_ , in the centre of the floor with several members of both the Weasley and Johnson clans. She hadn’t seen Fred since she overheard him talking to George. He could have gone home for all she cared. She was having a _great_ time. Ginny, in a similar state of intoxication, was dancing with her for what seemed like minutes but was actually hours, until Harry came up to suggest it was time to leave. But on seeing Hermione’s state, he thought it might be an idea to find Fred, and therefore linked arms with both girls, and forcibly removed them from the dancefloor.

‘I am _absolutely_ fine, Harry.’ Hermione insisted. ‘I don’t see why I can’t make my own way back to the flat.’

‘Because if you apparate on your own like that, you’ll splinch yourself.’ Harry told her firmly. ‘I’m not being responsible for the smartest witch in the world losing a leg, or her head or something.’

Hermione apparently found this _very_ amusing. In fact, she didn’t stop laughing until they found Fred, in the corner of the room, also looking drunk, his cravat undone and shirt messy. Then she stopped laughing. Then, actually, she started crying, because Fred was looking rather drunk, with his cravat undone and his shirt in a state with a young, pretty, slender blonde girl, who Harry vaguely recognised as Angelina’s chief bridesmaid, sat on his lap, with her tongue apparently quite firmly lodged in his mouth. She collapsed into the side of Harry, who quite quickly apparated the three of them back to his and Ginny’s flat, before Ginny hexed Fred, which she was still threatening to do as they sat down on the couch, Harry finding some Pepper-Up in the back of a cupboard and pouring them all a glass. Hermione explained the conversation she had overheard, and her subsequent burning desire to consume all the liquor in the building, at which Ginny had offered to perform several unforgivable curses on both Fred and the girl he had been with and which even the mild-mannered Harry had declared ‘absolute bullshit’ on Fred’s part, and had offered to go round to his first thing in the morning and show him what it was to duel with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione’s sobs had turned to quiet sniffles and the occasional hiccup as the morning dawned bright and clear. Ginny had fallen asleep threatening to hex one of Fred’s ears off so he matched his twin, and Harry was nodding on the sofa. The Pepper-Up had eased Hermione’s hang over, but now she burnt with shame, at her own drunkenness and at the conversation she had overheard Fred having with George, and the state she had found him in.

She scribbled a note on the back of an envelope and left Ginny and Harry to sleep on.

_I’m so sorry about last night – forgive all. Going back to Fred’s to pick up some things and then back to my parents for a while – think I need to give Fred his space, and clear my own head for a little while. Write to me there until I let you know what’s happening. Sorry again, and thank you for letting me stay here tonight._

When Hermione apparated back to the flat she _no longer_ shared with Fred, she noted that the place was still a tip, although some attempt at cleaning the glass in the lounge had been made, since it now sat in a pile in the corner, rather than everywhere. Fred was passed out on the couch.

‘ _Accio_ suitcase.’ She murmured, repeating the spell with her belongings, and hastily shrinking and shoving them all in. When Fred stirred slightly, she couldn’t help but look over at the figure she had been carefully avoiding looking at. His hair had fallen in a way across his face that tugged at something in her heart. Those lips, which she had kissed so many hundred times in the last few weeks, parted slightly. She felt an overwhelming desire to cry again, but had no tears left. It simply reminded her of the kiss she had seen him giving the blonde witch. She grabbed her suitcase and apparated away.

At the sound of the _crack_ of Hermione’s apparition, Fred awoke with a start. He could smell Hermione’s perfume, and knew she was back in the flat.

‘Granger?’ he called. ‘Hey, Granger are you here?’ He got up and searched the flat, only realising when he walked into their bedroom, and noticed the missing clothes, the shoes that _always_ made him fall over had disappeared. Walking through to the bathroom, the lone toothbrush in the glass confirmed his fears.

 _Where the hell is she?_ He thought. _I haven’t seen her since the wedding. She can’t be that upset about a bit of mess? I mean, the place was a state, but to move out? Where would she go?_

He wrote her a note, and tied it to the leg of his own owl, Benedick. ‘Find Hermione, and don’t leave until she’s written back to me!’ He opened  the window and let the bird fly out into the day, which he realised with a sharp pain in his head, was really _far_ too bright.

The owl didn’t return until gone seven that night, and the note was ominously short.

_Can’t talk to you right now. Perhaps you should ask your sister._

The ink was splotchy in places, and Fred had difficulty making out the last word.

He scrawled off another letter to Ginny and sat patiently waiting for the return of his owl. What he didn’t expect was for Ginny to apparate directly into his flat, screaming at him in a way that made him think he would have preferred a Howler.

‘Can’t believe you ended up _making out_ with the chief bridesmaid. Who even does that?! When _YOUR FIANCEE_ is in the same room. You better apologise to that girl quickly or so help me Merlin…’

‘Woah, woah, wait! Slow down Ginny…’

‘AND I know all about the cosy little chat you had with George about not wanting to marry Hermione. I know the situation is a shitty one Fred Weasley, and Hermione should be marrying someone who _actually cares_ about her, but unless you want to be kicked out and have to live in the Muggle world, where you wouldn’t last two seconds, you will _man up and marry the woman!_ ’ Ginny finally paused for breath, and when she spoke again Fred was relieved to hear she no longer sounded quite so much like their Mum. ‘You could do worse than Hermione, Fred. She’s beautiful, she’s smart, she’s ambitious. She’s my best friend, Fred, and I will not let you mess her around. So go grovel. Quickly. And maybe get the _lipstick_ off your face!’ She warned, before apparating on the spot.

During Ginny’s tirade, the previous night had come flooding back to Fred, in the way that night’s do after a certain amount of Firewhiskey has dulled your brain. He remembered the talk he’d had with George, but had had no idea that Hermione had overheard. All he knew was she was upset with him about leaving the flat in a state, which, he pondered as he glanced around the flat, was probably understandable. His conversation with his twin had started off as a congratulatory drink, toasting the newly married couple, but had ended with Fred feeling maudlin at what he had initially considered the loss of his brother. George had consoled him that they’d still be as close as ever, but Fred’s melancholy mood had continued, and he had ended up venting to George about his reservations over his impending nuptials. His foul temper had been somewhat exacerbated when he’d walked back into the reception room and seen Hermione having such a great time. _He_ should be having a good time – it was his brother’s wedding! So that’s what he’d intended to do. All he knew after that was some dancing, possibly with the bridesmaid that Ginny had mentioned, and a lot of alcohol.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!_ He berated himself. _Never getting that drunk again! Ever! Oh, Granger, what the hell have I done?_


	9. Come home

Hermione’s parents had not said a word to her when she’d appeared on their doorstep, eyes puffy, mascara trailing, wearing her beautiful pale green dress, dragging a suitcase. For this, Hermione was eternally grateful. Hermione’s mother had taken her daughter in her arms, led her gently upstairs, and ran her a bath whilst the young witch changed out of the dress she had worn to the wedding. Mr Granger had brought the suitcase inside, made a cup of tea, and stood helplessly in the kitchen. He was not a violent man, much as he’d tried to intimidate Fred just a little, and knew he would not confront the man who had to be his son-in-law. But his daughter was still his little girl, and he wanted to help her. So he knocked softly on the bedroom door, where he could hear his wife talking to Hermione in hushed tones, and when there was no reply, opened it quietly and padded into the room. His wife was cradling their daughter, whose tears had once again found an outlet, and were pouring down her cheeks. She whispered comforting, essentially nonsense sentences to sooth their child, as Mr Granger took a seat on the other side of Hermione. Eventually, with both her parents hugging her better, her sobs died down to sniffles, and she finally expressed a desire to just sleep.

She was woken up by the sound of the owl tapping against the window, which reminded her so strongly of the day the marriage law had been passed that all the memories of it clouded her brain for the moment. Then she remembered why she was in her own bed, alone. She huffily got up to let the owl in and was shocked to see that it was from Fred.

_Granger, Just wondered where you got to! Sorry about the state of the flat – afraid George and I got up during the night for some reason. Let me know you’re okay – can’t remember seeing you leave._

_Your Fred._

He had no idea, she realised! For some reason she couldn’t decide if that made her feel better or worse. She thought probably worse. Deciding to ignore the bird, Hermione dragged herself out of bed, took some old, comfy clothes out of her suitcase and headed to the bathroom. Maybe she’d feel better after a shower. The day passed without little happening, except Fred’s owl Puck seemed quite determined to stay put. Hermione did hear from Harry, who stopped by that afternoon to check she was okay. Hermione was grateful, and requested that he and Ginny didn’t tell the rest of the Weasley’s – she didn’t think she’d be able to stand Mrs Weasley’s pity, or her tears. She spent the day reading, digging out her old, tattered copy of _Jane Eyre_ , the well-thumbed pages bringing more comfort than the beauty of the copy Fred had brought her on their date to the bookshop, and holding far fewer painful memories.

After her lazy day, something she rarely allowed herself and consequently rather enjoyed, she turned in for an early night, only to be greeted by the site of Puck the owl resolutely sitting on her bedside table. Her own owl, Titania, had retreated to her perch, looking haughtily on the scruffy little scrapling that had invaded her room.

‘Go away, Puck. I’ve got nothing to say to Fred.’ Hermione sounded tired, even to herself. Puck simply cocked his head. ‘He told you to stay until you got an answer, didn’t he?’ Seemingly understanding the little owlet puffed out his chest. ‘ _Fine!_ ’ she huffed, grabbing a scrap of parchment. She scrawled off a reply, telling him she couldn’t talk, and promptly the little bird took off. Titania hooted in approval, and Hermione curled herself up into bed once more.

Ginny and Harry paid another visit the next day, and Hermione’s parents very wisely decided to do some shopping while her friends cheered Hermione up. Ginny told Hermione all about her ‘little _discussion_ ’ with Fred, but mostly Hermione was just glad of the company. They reminisced about Hogwarts and spoke about pretty much everything that might take her mind off Fred. It worked for a little while, at least.

The next day was Monday, and Hermione threw herself into work with such a vigour that the poor young intern ended the day with at least twenty grey hairs, where before none had resided.  Even on her lunch break, Hermione was found sat at her desk, absent-mindedly eating using her wand to direct the food into her mouth, whilst flicking desperately through a hard-copy of the _Regulation of the Magical Population_ statute, trying to find a clause regarding ending the relationship prior to the marriage itself. The closest thing she found was under Section 47, and stated that in the case of proven adultery after the marriage ceremony, couples would be placed in a mandatory programme of counselling. If the disruption to the marriage continued, then the affected spouse could file for a divorce, subject to a Ministry hearing and approval. Then the business of finding another partner would begin. It all sounded foolproof – she suspected the Ministry hearing would take so long the couple would probably stay together. She snorted in annoyance.

 _Looks like I’m marrying him anyway…_ she thought.

The day at work proved so busy that by the time she apparated into her parent’s secluded front yard, Hermione wasn’t even thinking of Fred. She was forcibly reminded however, when she entered the living room and saw her mother looking around confusedly, having just returned from work herself, to find the entire room filled with roses, all a pale peach colour.

‘I assume they’re from Fred…’ she told Hermione, pre-empting her question. The two of them spent a good half an hour putting all of the (magically thornless, Hermione noted) roses into various vases, some of which she had to transfigure from other household objects.

She had to admit to Ginny later that it had made her smile just slightly.

The next day after work, the present was smaller, but all the more precious. Seven books, beautiful first editions of her top seven favourite Muggle books, bound carefully, lay on her bed. Each contained a note from Fred.

The first Hermione looked at, in _Jane Eyre_ , read:

_Granger,_

_The first time I think I realised I was falling for you was in that bookstore, when I brought you the other copy of this book. Your eyes lit up and you got this daft smile on your face. You looked so beautiful, and it was all over a book, just because you didn’t own that edition in red, or something like that! I’d not seen someone smile like that since the war had finished. That’s when I remembered how strong you are. You went through hell and back, Granger, and you still smile like that._

The second note was tucked inside _Pride and Prejudice_ :

_Hermione,_

_I know you probably think I wasn’t paying attention at the zoo, when you were on about the house-elves and stuff. I was! I just had brain freeze really bad, and was trying so hard not to look like an idiot! By the way, you look gorgeous when you go all political on me!_

The second, third, and fourth were of a similar kind, all detailing little moments that he remembered about their relationship so far: like how nervous he’d been when they were moving in together, how happy she made him that first day.

The fifth was inside _The Magic Toyshop_ , a book she had loved as a child.

_Oh Granger,_

_You’ve been away for like two days and I’m missing you. I know I’m a total idiot, and as Ginny is quite rightly pointing out at approximately half-hour intervals, I don’t deserve you. But come home, Granger?_

_Freddikins x_

Hermione started crying. Quite hard. She knew he was putting himself out there, and she really wanted to forgive him, because she missed him too.

The sixth, inside _The Night Circus_ , was splotchy, as though he had been crying for some time whilst writing it. It was also by far the longest note.

_I’ve been so stupid, Granger. I’m an idiot. I’m not exactly coping with this very well, am I? Which makes me feels so ridiculous because you’re taking everything in your stride, like you always do. I’ve always admired that about you, Granger. Even when you, Harry and Ron had to run off and do all that stuff before the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry told me all about it, after everything had calmed down a bit. You just took everything in, were ready to go, refused to leave him even when you knew how dangerous it would be, when you could have just gone into hiding with your parents, even when my stupid little brother walked away from it all. Then the Battle, when everyone was hurt afterwards and you cried for Remus and Tonks and the others, and then you went and helped everyone you could with that enormous, brilliant brain of yours. Then the war ended and you go back to school and come out with more N.E.W.T.S than all of us Weasleys altogether. I’ve never known anyone as determined as you. And you’re probably pretty determined to hate me, right now, which is fine. But you need to know it wasn’t the girl; I don’t even remember speaking to her. It was me. It was me freaking out because everyone we know is so happy and damnit Granger I want to make you look as happy as Angelina did the other day. And I think we can be. I just need to grow up and realise that whether or not this situation is completely and utterly weird… I need you Granger. Forgive me?_

It was some hours before Hermione could bring herself to open the last book. She cried and cried, and started writing letters to Fred only to screw up the parchment and throw it away. In fact, it wasn’t until she got into bed that night that she opened the final book.

She nearly missed the note that fell out of _Rebecca_ , it was so small.

_I love you. Come home._


	10. Close enough

Some days later, Fred had almost given up hope. The flowers and the books had been the start of a week long campaign of presents, which had included jewellery and vouchers for Malkin’s spa, which he remembered she had loved as part of Ginny’s hen party. He had sent so many letters he no longer needed to tell Puck where to go, he just assumed it was for Hermione. But he had heard nothing in return. Titania had not been spotted anywhere near the shop, let alone the beautiful witch she belonged to.

Locking up the door to the shop, Fred sighed as he resigned himself to another night alone. George had counselled him to give the presents  break and let Hermione recover her hurt pride on her own. He knew his twin was right, but the very thought was killing him. They were getting married in less than a month. Just three weeks, or so. As he unlocked the door to the flat, he knew something was _different_ straight away. The air smelled of someone cooking; spices and herbs, that delicious smell that bubbling sauces have.

‘Hello…?’ Fred ventured, cautiously, into the room. Logically, he knew Death-Eaters were unlikely to cook you a meal before they murdered you and your whole family, but one couldn’t be too sure.

He nearly fainted when Hermione stepped out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand.

‘Hermione! Thank Merlin you’re back! I’ve missed you so much!’ He moved to swoop her into a hug, but she stopped him by holding up the spoon.

‘Dinner is ready. Sit down. Eat. Then we’ll talk.’

Eyes wide, but over the moon with happiness, Fred seated himself at the table in the kitchen-diner. Hermione brought out two plates of spaghetti bolognese, placing on in front of Fred and seating herself at the other end of the table.

‘Granger…’ Fred began, wanting desperately to talk, to explain that he wasn’t the guy she thought he was, but once again she stopped him.

‘I told you… _after_ dinner!’ She looked at him so sternly that he didn’t dare do anything else.

Once they had finished eating, Hermione directed him to the still obnoxiously blue sofa, once again sitting at the furthest possible end. But she was on the same sofa, which Fred considered a good start.

‘Okay.’ Hermione began this time. ‘Let’s talk.’

But now, Fred’s wit and general conversation failed him. All he could do was sit and look at her, sat cross-legged, her back against the arm of the sofa, facing him. She was so beautiful. And he loved her. He really did. She just looked at him, still with the stern expression on her face which Fred had come to know so well during their days at Hogwarts.

‘Can we do the question thing? You know, like we did when we had dinner?’

Hermione looked surprised, but nodded her consent.

‘Are you… are you back for good?’

‘Yes. We’re getting married, Fred. Whatever has happened, I do not want to lose my place in this world.’

‘Thank Merlin…’

‘Why? Why her?’

‘Because she was there.’

Hermione snorted. ‘Really, Fred? Can’t you do better than that?’

‘It’s the truth!’ He protested, leaning toward her. ‘It wasn’t anything about her, I barely know who she was!’

‘Is this meant to make me feel better? I saw what you were like at Hogwarts, every girl in the Common Room was swooning after you, and I’m fairly sure you took advantage of it!’ She had gone slightly high-pitched, but Fred pretended not to notice.

‘It’s not going to make you feel better whatever I say!’ He sighed and leaned back. ‘This isn’t about making you feel better. I just want you to know that it’s this whole _situation_ that is _freaking_ me out, Granger. I don’t think I’ve ever come to terms with the fact that this is happening. It’s absurd! I never thought I’d be getting married yet! I thought I’d have a real house, with the business expanded to where I want it to be. I thought I’d meet a girl some other way, some way where I’d fall in love with her _before_ we set the date for the wedding. I thought she’d feel the same way about me as I do about her!’ He finished, running a hand through his already rumpled hair.

She nodded. ‘I understand. I’m not condoning what you did, Fred Weasley, and Merlin knows I’m not sure I forgive you yet…’ her breath hitched as she choked on her tears. ‘But... I understand, as well. It’s an _awful_ , positively _evil_ thing that Salem has done… But if you’re not feeling great – if you’re worried,  or _anything_ Fred… please talk to me next time!’

He nodded. ‘I will. At the wedding… I was drunk, you were ignoring me, my _twin_ had just got married to a woman he loves and who loves him. My head wasn’t on straight.’

‘I know.’

‘My question?’

She nodded.

‘What made you come back?’

Hermione thought for a moment. ‘I was always going to come back. But when you got me those books – the notes – they were beautiful.’

‘Good.’

‘My question.’ She realised, again taking a moment before speaking, and determinedly looking away when she asked it. ‘Did you mean it?’

‘Mean what?’ He looked puzzled. Her hand fumbled at her neckline for a moment before she pulled out a silver necklace, with a pendant locket on the end. Opening it, she handed him a small scrap of paper. He undid it and recognised it instantly.

_I love you. Come home._

He couldn’t help it, tears started to roll down his cheeks.

‘Of course I did, Granger! Do you really think I’d make something like that up?!’ Through his tears, he saw that she had started crying too.

‘No,­­­ I mean, of course I know you wouldn’t… I just… I had no idea!’

‘Neither did I, Granger. It took me doing something so incredibly stupid to realise exactly what I’d lost. I sat there all night not knowing what to do with myself because I was so used to having you here. I missed stupid things! Like the way you sing ‘ _hello!_ ’ when you come in from work. I missed winding you up about something until you got cross and your nose would wrinkle and you’d get all stern and then I’d laugh, and you’d pretend to still be cross and…’

Hermione stopped his rambling with a kiss. It took Fred a moment to realize what was happening, but he tentatively returned the kiss. Their tears intermingled as they both continued to cry. Hermione pulled away quite soon.

‘I think we both need to sleep. We’ll work through this, Fred. Together.’

It wasn’t until they lay next to each other, noticeably not touching, that Fred asked:

‘Can I ask one more question?’

‘Of course,’ Hermione replied, her eyes already beginning to close.

‘Have you forgiven me?’

She turned to him and gently kissed the freckles on his nose. ‘Not yet, Fred Weasley. But I want to. Which is close enough.’

 


	11. You'll have to call me Weasley now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've finally got there - kudos if you stayed all the way through, I'm aware this is a looong fic (and it's so not over yet!) - but you've got to the wedding!
> 
> Will everything go okay? Will Hermione walk down the aisle after all? 
> 
> L_M_D

Things got better over the next few weeks. A couple of days after moving back in, Hermione came home from a particularly stressful day at work, and Fred kissed her hello without thinking about it. She returned to singing _Helloo!_ when she walked in the door, and Fred tentatively returned to joking with her. He still trod on eggshells around her, and had put up with watching an entire season of her favourite show on the “Netflix”. Every now and again when the lay in bed together she would look at him, sigh and shake her head and turn away from him, and he knew that she was thinking of how stupid he’d been. So the mornings after those nights, he would bring her a cup of tea as she got ready for her job, before he headed down to open the doors of the shop.

The wedding was coming around quicker even than Ginny’s or George’s had done, and soon Fred and Hermione were spending nights writing and sending invitations. Most of the guests would be Weasley’s, since Hermione had a small family, but she didn’t mind. The Weasley’s were her family too, now.

The night before, Hermione packed her bag and prepared to apparate with Ginny to her mother’s house, where she would get ready for the big day. Fred stood rather limply in front of her.

‘I’ll miss you, Granger.’

‘I’ll miss you too, Fred.’

‘Just kiss her already, Fred!’ Ginny butted in. ‘I’ll apparate ahead of you, Hermione, get things ready at yours.’

After Ginny had apparated, Hermione and Fred looked nervously at each other.

‘Christ Granger, I don’t think I’ve been this nervous around you since our first date!’

‘It’s not like we haven’t kissed since I got back!’ Hermione crossed her arms, refusing to admit that she was nervous too.

‘I know. I’m nervous because this is the last kiss I’m going to give you as an unmarried woman! It should be right!’

Hermione relented, and uncrossed her arms. Fred stepped towards her. Brushing one thumb softly across her cheek he sighed.

‘I love you, Hermione Jean Granger.’

In reply, Hermione pressed her lips against his, entangling one hand in his scruffy hair, wrapping the other around his shoulders, standing on tip toe to bring him closer. Inside, she melted, as she always did when she kissed him, and her knees took on that weakness that only ever happened around him. 

Opening her mouth, she felt Fred’s tongue caress her own; her skin suddenly felt electric and she was on fire. She was fairly sure that if she let Fred go, she would melt completely, and so clung onto him tighter than ever.

Fred groaned. It had been too long since Hermione had kissed him like this, like she meant it, like she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. One hand slipped down from her waist to grab that perfect bum of hers and he pulled her body flush against his. She responded so suddenly, pushing against him with such force, that he had to take a step or two back, and was suddenly leaning against the back of the sofa, with Hermione still in between his  legs and _so damn close._  When they finally broke away for air, he sighed.

‘ _Granger…_ ’

Hermione rested her forehead against his.

‘Do you have to go just yet?’ he asked, using one hand to cup her chin so he could kiss her once more. She giggled.

‘Ginny will be wondering where I am.’

‘Tell her that your new husband wanted to practise his marital duties before the wedding night.’ he joked, pushing Hermione gently away from him before scooping her up into his arms. She let out a tiny, high-pitched _‘Oh!’_ in surprise, before laughing as Fred valiantly kicked open the door to their bedroom and set her gently down on the bed.

‘I couldn’t _possibly_ let you go without saying goodbye properly...’ Fred whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking slightly. He kissed her collarbone, so gently Hermione would hardly have known it had happened, were it not for the lingering outline of his lips, which sparked like electricity.

Emboldened by her moans, Fred’s hand slipped under her t-shirt, a thumb brushing against her hardening nipple. His kisses trailed down her neck, across the swell of her breasts. He revelled in how she sighed his name as he kissed a particularly sensitive spot, how she raised her hips to meet his just slightly when he did _that_ with his hands…

Hermione wasn’t sure of the passage of time, but it didn’t seem that long since her and Fred had laid on her bed, but she suddenly realised that her shirt and bra were long gone, Fred’s shirt was crumpled in a ball next to her, and that her jeans were slowly being undone. She was about to protest that really she _had_ to get back to Ginny, lest the young witch apparate back to check on them; but then Fred’s hand slipped inside her underwear, and she completely forgot everything she was about to say.

Two hours later, and a _very_ dishevelled Hermione apparated directly into her bedroom, to find Ginny Weasley sat on her bed, buffing her nails with a file. Hermione stood there, feeling rather like she’d been caught sneaking out by her mother – not that she’d ever done that as a teenager. Ginny simply raised one eyebrow.

‘Hermione Granger, I do _not_ want to know.’

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she burst out laughing.

‘I’m so sorry, but you have to blame Fred completely!’ She sat down next to Ginny with a sigh, and the red-head relented and smiled at her.

‘I take it this means you and my brother have kissed and made up?’

‘I suppose so. Part of me is still so _cross_ at him for doing what he did – but although I hate what he did, I understand why. This whole thing has been a rollercoaster, and we’re not off yet. We’ve still got to get married, get through the Ministry inspections, and have a baby!’ Her laughter stopped, but she carried on smiling.

‘The Ministry things are a breeze!’ Ginny reassured her. ‘I know I don’t have to have them, what with being exempt and all, but a couple of my friends from Hogwarts have had their first ones already and I’ve not heard of anyone not passing straight away.’

‘I know. We’ll be fine. And Fred loves me, I’m sure of that now. I’m marrying a man who loves me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.’

 

The next morning, as Ginny bustled around the room, fixing breakfast, bringing it to Hermione, who half-heartedly picked at a slice of toast (which Ginny insisted she didn’t think possible), Hermione’s brain raced.

 _It’s my wedding day_. She thought. It was like that thought was on loop, interspersed with _Oh my good Merlin I’m getting married. To Fred. Today. Oh sweet Merlin that is my wedding dress_.

Hermione’s mother, recognising the face of pre-wedding jitters, gently sat on the bed next to her daughter. Ginny left the room, loudly declaring that she needed to do _eight million things_ before lunch, which was now _only three hours away!_

A moment after Ginny had left, Hermione was in her mother’s arms, crying.

‘Don’t be sad, Hermione dear.’ Her mother reassured her.

‘I’m not. I mean, I am. But I’m happy, too.’ She laughed slightly. ‘Does that even make sense?’

‘Of course it does. Do you know how I felt the day I married your father?’ Hermione shook her head. ‘Absolutely terrified! I was so young! And, although I wasn’t in your position dear, I wanted to marry your father, I was so frightened of getting it wrong! What if, once he realised I truly am an awful cook, he’d change his mind?! What if he just didn’t show up at all?! Honestly,’ she laughed. ‘I was a quivering wreck all the way up the aisle. The trick is, my sweetheart, not to let anyone else realise that!’

Slowly but surely the clock ticked around to lunchtime, and Hermione’s few bridesmaids appeared.

She’d only wanted a small wedding anyway, so with Ginny as her Maid of Honour, she chose only to have Luna and Fleur, having few other female friends to ask. When the girls arrived, Hermione was still in her robe, but they all sat down to a light lunch, the conversation light-hearted and joking, and Hermione found that she was beginning to look forward to her “Big Day” after all.

The hairdresser and makeup artist turned up not long afterwards.

‘Before you get started with your hair girls,’ Hermione stopped them, as Ginny began to draw out her plan of who had to get what done and when. ‘I just wanted to give you all a little something before the wedding. It’s kind of a Muggle tradition, I suppose. Especially in my family.’

She handed each of the girls the small parcel, which they opened with gusto. All three let out sighs of happiness, and a few squeals.

‘Hermione, you shouldn’t have!’

‘It eez lovely, Hermione.’

‘What a lovely tradition!’

All three girls immediately put on the delicate silver necklace, with its heart charm. She had got them matching necklaces, but individualised some other, smaller gifts. Luna, for example, had a set of art notebooks, and some beautiful pastel paints, along with various other things.

 _I saw the art in your room, when Harry, Ron and I were looking for the Deathly Hallows_ , a note from Hermione read. _Please, draw more, Luna. Thank you._ When Hermione looked at Luna, after Ginny had released her from a bear hug, her eyes were swimming, and she nodded thank you mutely.

Each girl spent some time exclaiming over their gifts, before Ginny once more marshalled herself into Maid of Honour mode, and started commanding them to have hair, make up, and manicures done _immediately!_

Once the bridesmaids were dressed in their light blue gowns, Ginny handed them their small bouquets of pale blue and peach flowers, and they stood in front of Hermione, who was having her hair done at the time.

‘I’m fairly sure none of you are meant to look better than me today, but I’ll let you off!’ She laughed.

Hermione’s mother only shed a few tears when she saw her daughter in her wedding gown.

‘I love you so much, Hermione.’

‘I love you too Mum.’ They hugged, before Hermione sent her and her father on using the special Floo license she obtained.  ‘Wait for me at the back of the church!’ She told her father, who was looking emotional.

Ginny, on the other hand, wept.

‘You look so beautiful!’ she insisted, wiping her tears away furiously. ‘I’m so happy you’re going to be my sister after all.’

‘Oh Ginny!’ Hermione warned, ‘don’t make me start crying already!’ The girls all hugged, before apparating directly to the back of the old church.

Mr Granger was indeed waiting for his daughter where she had told him to.

‘This venue is lovely, Hermione.’ He said, after taking in the vision that was his daughter in her wedding dress. Hermione knew he wasn’t really talking about the church, and hugged him hard.

‘I’ll always be your little girl, Dad!’

 

Inside the church, Fred stood nervously at the front, his best man George repeatedly telling him to stop fussing with his pale blue cravat.

‘What if she doesn’t turn up?’ He whispered hoarsely, looking earnestly at his twin. ‘What if she decides to petition the Minister for Magic himself, and get out of it? No one would stand up to her if she wanted something – you and I know that!’

George just laughed. ‘Remember at Hogwarts, how terrified we were when she’d march over and tell us off for giving Canary Creams to the first years?’ He went on in this manner, making Fred laugh with recollections of Hermione before Fred even knew he was going to marry her.

‘I hate to bother you gentlemen,’ the Ministry official butted in, ‘but your bride is now fifteen minutes late.’ Fred’s eyes widened until George thought they were going to pop out of his head. ‘I am rather busy at the moment, as I’m sure you’ll understand…’ He trailed off. Fred looked helplessly around at his groomsmen, before settling on Harry.

‘I’ll go check she’s okay. It’s probably Ginny, fussing about the lighting or something.’ Harry laughed, heading quickly to the back, and entering the small chamber.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, looking puzzled as the girls stood around Hermione, apparently fixing her hair.

‘Oh! Sorry Harry!’ came Hermione’s voice from the centre of the group. The girls moved away, conveniently finishing their arrangements, which Harry now saw was to do with Hermione’s veil, which she wore over her hair rather than her face. ‘My Dad just gave me this – it was my grandmothers, and my mothers. I thought we’d lost it…’

‘But I couldn’t let my little girl go without a veil on her wedding day.’ Mr Granger spoke up. ‘But I think it’s about time we put the groom out of his misery.’ He smiled, and nodded to Harry that he could leave. Harry took one last look at Hermione and grinned.

‘You look amazing, ’Mione. Good luck out there.’ He walked quickly back to the front of the church, and only answered Fred’s desperate questioning with an enigmatic smile.

A few very long minutes later, and Fred let out a sigh of relief as he heard the soft music begin to play.

‘Don’t look just yet.’ He heard Harry’s voice in his ear. ‘Just calm down a minute, okay?!’

Fred tried to take his groomsman’s advice but hearing the ooh-ing from the assembled congregation, he couldn’t resist. He had to look. He turned round so quickly that he got a bit of a head rush, and for a moment all he could see was white, with what appeared to be blue shapes in the background. But then his focus came back, and his knees nearly buckled.

‘Oh Merlin!’ He croaked. ‘I’m marrying _her_.’ George and Harry, who had overheard the exchange, shared a smile.

In the pews, even Ron couldn’t keep his mouth closed as he watched his ex-girlfriend and now best friend float up the aisle. Mrs Granger, seeing her daughter walking up the aisle with her father, couldn’t hide the tears that she had managed to keep in until that moment. Mrs Weasley lent her a spare handkerchief, before sobbing into her own.

Hermione didn’t notice any of this. She could only concentrate on Fred, and not falling over.

Fred didn’t notice any of it either. He could only concentrate on Hermione, and not falling over. His knees appeared to be made out of jelly. She looked stunning, her white ballgown dress flowing like water. Her shoulders were bare, and Fred could see the silver necklace, decorated with pale blue gemstones, which he had given her as an apology gift. The veil she wore already thrown back was long and fine, reaching down to her waist.

The walk seemed at once the longest and the shortest moment of Fred Weasley’s life. It seemed like he’d been looking at her, walking towards him, for hours; but then suddenly she was next to him, her father had given Fred her hand and gone to sit next to his wife.

‘You look so beautiful, Granger.’ Fred smiled, his eyes still wide in disbelief that somehow this woman was going to be his wife.

‘And you look very handsome, Fred.’ She was smiling at him, and the Ministry official was talking and Fred got so lost that the congregation laughed as he didn’t realise it was his turn to take his vows.

‘Hermione Jean Granger,’ he began, once he remembered where he was, ‘I, Frederick Weasley, do here take you to be my wife. I give to you everything I have, everything I am, and everything I will ever be. In front of our family and friends, I promise to be yours, _faithful until death_.’ He emphasized, squeezing his fiancée’s hands. ‘I promise to love you more with every day that comes, to treasure you, to be at your side in sadness and in joy. I promise to stand beside you in everything you do, and to do everything in my power to make you happy every day of our lives.’

The Ministry Official then turned to Hermione, who luckily had been paying attention.

‘Frederick Weasley, I, Hermione Jean Granger, do here take you to be my husband. I pledge to you my heart, my body and my soul. In front of our friends and family, I promise to be yours, faithful until death. I promise to respect and to cherish you, to stand with you through everything the world can throw at us. I promise to encourage and help you, and to love you unconditionally and without reserve for the rest of my life.’

Harry now stepped forward with the rings, and the couple repeated after the Ministry Official, who was holding his wand above their joined hands.

‘Hermione Jean Granger, with this ring, I ask you to be my wife. With this ring, I bond myself to you until death.’

‘Frederick Weasley, with this ring, I ask you to be my husband. With this ring, I bond myself to you until death.’

As Hermione finished her sentence, a shower of sparks shot out of the Ministry Official’s wand, and their silver wedding bands glowed bright white for just a moment, indicating that their union was complete.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! You may kiss you bride, Mr Weasley.’ The congregation cheered as Fred swept his new wife into a kiss, dramatically dipping her, Hollywood-style.

 

The pictures had been taken, the wedding party ferried over to the mainland where a marquee had been set up, and the canapes demolished. The group had finished a _very_  satisfying meal, and had laughed at George’s outrageous best man speech, which had caused blushes on the part of almost everyone in the wedding party. Fred had thanked everyone for coming, and given the bridesmaids flowers, and jokingly told Ginny to stop growing up because it was making him feel old. He thanked Mr and Mrs Granger, for raising the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the room, and then thanked his own parents, for raising two incredibly handsome, talented, and modest chaps in him and George – although, he mentioned, it was a shame they didn’t do so well on the rest of the brothers.

‘There’s only one more person to thank really, and that is, of course, the beautiful woman that today agreed to be my wife.’ There were a few cheers, and one or two whistles. ‘Hermione, in all seriousness, I know that this happened because of the new laws, but I honestly can’t imagine anyone who I would rather spend my life with. You make me the happiest, and proudest man in the room. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to invite you onto the floor for our first dance…’ he quickly used the _Quietus_ spell to stop his amplified voice, and offered his arm to Hermione. Leading her onto the floor just as the first strains of their song started, he held her tight against him for a moment, before beginning to dance.

‘Thank you, Hermione.’

‘What for?’ she asked, her face starting to ache from smiling so much.

‘For marrying me. For those vows. For everything.’

‘I meant every word, Fred.’

‘Even the bit about loving me?’

She looked deep into his eyes as she nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘That’s the first time you’ve said you love me back.’

‘I thought our wedding day would be an appropriate time.’ She laughed.

Other couples began filling the floor, slowly moving in time to the music, and Hermione and Fred danced in silence for the rest of the song, taking in the day.

When it was over, guests began to move around, mingling, talking and laughing. Hermione kissed Fred’s cheek and said ‘hang on!’ before performing the _Sonorous_ charm quickly, and wandlessly.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, there is just _one_ more thing before we start this reception properly! If I could ask you to all just congregate outside, near the water?’ The guests complied, puzzled. The sun had just set, and the sky was that delicious dark blue tint that occurs just before the stars come out. Hermione, having performed the _Quietus_ charm, took Fred’s hand and led him to the front of the crowd. She nodded to George, who was standing just apart from the crowd. Fred saw him perform what looked like a complex wand movement, and suddenly the sky was filled with fireworks.

He turned to look at Hermione in wonder.

‘You said you’d always wanted fireworks at your wedding.’ She shrugged.

‘You remembered that?’ he asked, incredulous.

‘Of course I did.’ She smiled at him, before turning her head to look at the display. ‘You know, I’ve always loved fireworks too.’

‘I bloody love you, Granger.’

‘Weasley.’ She corrected him. ‘You’ll have to call me Weasley now.’

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for the tightest hug he could, whilst still allowing them both to watch the fireworks.

‘Alright.’ He said quietly. ‘I bloody love you, Mrs Weasley.’


	12. The Burnt Souffle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all you lovely people who have read, and left kudos on this story! Sorry it's taken such a long time to update - I've been pretty ill, so my focus has been getting back to work.  
> WARNING: This is the 'smut' chapter, for want of a better word. If you don't like to read such things, by all means wait until I upload the next chapter and continue reading without reading this chapter, it won't affect the storyline by any means. (Apart from the fact they will have had sex, which is important to the needing to have a baby thing, but you can just assume they have without reading it if it's not your thing - or if it's terribly written which is a very real possibility!) 
> 
> But I do hope you enjoy it, my dear Reader, 
> 
> L_M_D

‘ _Helloo!_ ’ Hermione sang, walking through the front door. She’d had a most _excellent_ day at work, and was in a very cheerful mood. A cheerful mood that was immediately changed to one of worry as she noticed a large cloud of smoke coming from the kitchen.

‘Oh god Hermione, thank god you’re here!’ Fred ran out of the kitchen, clad in a garishly bright apron. She dropped her handbag, unsure of whether to laugh or to continue  being worried.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, carefully.

‘The soufflé!’ He yelled, grabbing her arm and almost forcefully yanking her into the kitchen. She burst out laughing.

There was indeed the remnants of what looked like it might once have been a soufflé on the kitchen  counter, but smoke was billowing out into the kitchen, as it appeared to be on fire.

‘Oh _Fred!_ ’ She laughed, unable to help herself.

‘What?!’

‘Why on _earth_ are you trying to make a soufflé?!’

‘You said the other night that you hadn’t had a good soufflé in years! You know, when we were watching that Muggle programme where people try to cook things in a tent.’

‘That would be _The Great British Bake Off_ , love, and I know but I didn’t mean I wanted you to…’

‘I thought it would be a good surprise…’ he interrupted sadly.

‘It’s a lovely surprise, Fred. Maybe we can make one together at the weekend?’ She suggested, putting out the fire with a jet of water from her wand, and levitating the soggy remains of the soufflé into the bin. It wasn’t long before they were laughing about the incident together, laughter which continued in short bursts of giggles as they changed for bed that night.

‘You _are_ funny, Fred Weasley.’

‘I know I am. That’s why you love me!’ he grinned, clambering into bed with his wife and wrapping her up in his arms.

‘That among other things.’ She agreed, wiggling around and kissing him.

‘Careful, Granger…’

‘ _Weasley_!’ she giggled, pressing herself up against him. ‘And careful of what?’ she asked, innocently.

‘Hermione Weasley!  You. Are. A. Minx.’ He growled, punctuating his words with kisses.

‘Well you are my husband, _Mr_ Weasley. I think if anyone is meant to see me as a minx, you are.’ She kissed him back then, deeply, and passionately. ‘And I’ve been thinking about you all day at work. I missed you…’

‘Oh have you indeed..?’ His skilful hands were already moving up her back, his lips were on her neck, before she knew it he was tugging her soft camisole top upwards. Leaning away from him, she allowed it to slip over her head and shoulders. Fred was already shirtless, his toned body pressed hastily against hers.

‘Do you have any idea how _beautiful_ you are?’ he whispered, his breath on her neck driving her wild.

‘You know what? I don’t… you should probably show me,’ she smiled, kissing him softly on the lips.

‘Challenge accepted, Granger.’ He smiled wickedly at her, before continuing his assault on her neck and throat, kissing alternately softly and hard, nibbling that one spot near her ear that made her groan. One hand rested on her breast, lightly playing with her hardening nipple. The other was swiftly removing her shorts, which he threw deftly to the other side of the room.

‘Oh _Fred…_ ’ Hermione moaned as he began kissing his way down her torso, apparently determined to cover every inch of her skin in kisses.

Fred never could get over how soft Hermione’s skin was. She drove him wild just laying there. He gently drew a finger up to her most sensitive spot, knowing he’d found it when she gave a wild buck, moaning his name again. So he kissed it, delicately, revelling in how she twisted in pleasure, especially when he did _that…_

Hermione felt like she was going to die of pleasure. That man’s hands, and that man’s tongue, she decided, were going to kill her. He was teasingly slow to do anything, so grabbing a handful of hair she gently pushed him closer to her.

‘Oh, _please_ , Fred…’ she begged. And being the loving husband that he was, Fred obliged.

She came almost immediately, the relief of feeling his tongue on her clit, and one finger slowly pushing its way inside her, was too much. The room span, her mind fogged, and Hermione temporarily forgot everything she knew, lost in the sensation that Fred had caused.

Fred loved the way she called his name when she came, loved feeling her tighten against his hand. So he carried on, bringing her to another two orgasms not too long after she came down from her first. He kissed his way back up her body, feeling rather smug at just how many times she had called on Merlin, Fred, God and a number of incoherent swear words.

‘You think you’re so good, Fred Weasley…’ she smirked, noticing his proud grin.

‘As a matter of fact… yes, yes I do. And you know I am, Granger.’ He winked, holding himself over her and leaning in for a kiss. Whilst he was off guard, Hermione used all her strength to grab his shoulders and flip them over, so she was on top of him. Straddling him, she smirked.

‘Your turn now, Weasley.’

‘I do believe I’ve been a bad influence on you, Granger…’ his sentence was cut off with a short gasp as Hermione reciprocated his attentions from earlier, kissing gently across his shoulders, chest, neck and throat, pausing at the areas where he moaned to smile at him. 

Soon, Fred thought he couldn’t take any more teasing. This witch was going to drive him insane.

‘ _Hermione…’_ he sighed once more, as her teasing mouth got lower on his abdomen. Her breasts were pressed against his hardness, and he thought he would explode. Knowing he would cum if she took him in her mouth, but wanting to make the night last a bit longer, he reached down and placed on hand under her chin, raising her head up to eye level. She looked at him quizzically.

‘Come back here…’ he said, his voice husky with desire. Once Hermione had crawled back up to lean over him, he kissed her. ‘You are too tempting, you little witch.’

Gently, he pushed her to the side, so she fell next to him, and he retook his place on top of her.

‘I want you, Hermione…’ He revelled in the faint pink blush that spread across her cheeks. She didn’t respond, only reached her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He felt her legs spread just slightly, and as she raised her hips the head of his cock brushed against her. He could feel the heat coming from her core, and groaned.

‘Merlin’s beard, Granger. You are so damn beautiful.’ He leant back, his eyes greedily roaming her body. ‘My beautiful, perfect, wife.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘How the bloody hell did I manage to get that lucky?’

‘You’ll have to write a thank you letter to Salem.’ Hermione joked. ‘But for now, I think we have more pressing matters to attend to, don’t you?’

‘I love it when you talk all nerdy!’ Fred winked, but took her point. Guiding himself with one hand, he pressed against her entrance. She was hot, wet, and felt so good Fred thought he would cum immediately if he didn’t concentrate. When he finally pressed into her, agonizingly slow for the both of them, he stayed still just for a moment.

‘Merlin, Fred, you feel amazing.’

‘You’re telling me, Granger!’

He started slowly, gently kissing her at the same time. But the first time Hermione came with him inside her, the feel of her walls clenching him, her nails slightly digging into his back as she clung onto him, the sound of her moans… it was too much. And whilst she came down from that orgasm, his thrusts got faster, more wildly passionate than before. She met every thrust, bucking her hips, lost in an ecstatic bliss. She knew nothing but the spreading waves of pleasure in her core, his lips on her skin, the feel of his body as she ran her hands over him.

For Fred, everything except Hermione had disappeared. She had no idea how beautiful she looked, her wild curls even more tangled, even more erratically stunning than usual. Her eyes were half closed, half rolling back in pleasure, her mouth slightly open in a continual stream of sighs and moans. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

‘ _Merlin_ , Hermione I’m going to…’

‘Oh, _yes_ Fred…’ She tightened around him once again, and all of Fred’s concentration couldn’t help him.

After, when he had rolled to the side, and they were spooning, he told her just how beautiful she had looked. He felt her blush even though he couldn’t see it, and fell in love with her just a little more.


	13. The Inspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is especially dedicated to the user Josa, who left such a lovely comment on my last chapter. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'm sorry this has taken such a long time to upload, I'm afraid I've been rather unwell so things are taking longer than normal! Hope that the length makes up for it though!  
> As ever, enjoy dearest Reader,
> 
> L_M_D

 

It was a few weeks later, one Sunday morning, when the owl arrived. Fred and Hermione were engaging in what was fast becoming a Sunday morning tradition of theirs – cooking breakfast together. Today it was eggs benedict.  Both of Fred’s owls, Puck and Benedick hooted disdainfully, alerting the laughing couple to the imperial looking brown owl sat outside their living room window. Titania, on the other hand, had preened and fluffed out her chest. Hermione left Fred with the cooking, and stroked Titania lovingly.

‘You are such a little flirt missy!’ She laughed, letting the stranger owl in. Her heart sank to the bottom of her feet when she saw the Ministry seal on the letter. Untying it, she absentmindedly fed the brown owl one of Puck’s treats, causing a cacophony of alarmed squeaking from Fred’s smallest, scruffy little owl. The ministry owl hooted right back, and took off haughtily.

Fred came out of the kitchen.

‘Everything alright, love?’ he asked, kissing his wife gently on the nose.

‘It’s the Ministry.’ She explained. ‘We’re to expect our first aptitude test tomorrow evening.’

Fred laughed. ‘You  look so worried love! We’ll pass with flying colours, everyone I know has.’

‘I can’t help but worry.’ She said, slightly defensive but beginning to smile. ‘I want to be able to stay married to you remember!’

He kissed her properly for that.

‘I love you, Mrs Weasley. Now, come make sure I don’t blow up the kitchen again…’

 

_Sundays_ _are the best days_ , Hermione thought to herself later, whilst pulling on her shoes. They always went for a walk, somewhere different each time, in the afternoon. _We’re a right regular old married couple already_ , she smiled to herself.

But the impending Ministry inspection was looming in her mind. She had told Ginny the news, who had Floo’d over with Harry for lunch. They were going to join them on today’s walk, for which they were apparating over to the Lake District for a bit of calm.

The sight of the calm lake did soothe Hermione’s worries for a while. As Fred and Harry strode ahead, their talk of the Quidditch World Cup, which was currently underway, and their various jobs, Ginny and Hermione lagged behind. Linking her arm through Hermione’s, Ginny addressed her worries.

‘I really don’t think you have much to worry about. Neville and Luna have had their first one, and from what I can gather from Neville they just ask you basic questions about your spouse, favourite colour, favourite food and stuff. It’s really just a preliminary one I think – just to check you are actually talking to each other!’ They laughed.

‘I know Fred and I will be okay. I love him so much Ginny. I never thought I would love him like this.’

Ginny squeezed her friend’s arm. ‘I know you do. And I know he’s crazy about you too. And it’ll be obvious to the Ministry person too. Don’t you worry yourself about it.’

Their talk turned to Ron and Tris’s wedding, which was scheduled to take place in a fortnight, until the boys eventually realised how far ahead they were of their wives, and waited for them to catch up.

Exhaustedly clambering into bed that night, Hermione told Fred what Ginny had said in regards to tomorrow’s visit.

‘I know we’ll be alright, Granger.’ He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘I love spooning you Granger. You feel all delicate and little.’ Brushing away a stray curl he kissed the back of her neck.

‘I’m not _delicate_!’ she laughed.

‘I know that!’ he agreed. ‘But you feel it. Plus I get to feel that delectable arse of yours. _And_ I still know when you’re blushing.’

‘I’m not blushing!’ she insisted, as her face flushed.

‘You’re forgetting one thing, Granger. I know you.’

 

Monday morning dawned hot and humid. Hermione dreaded work – even when just in a blouse and a smart skirt she knew the office would be hotter than the sun.

She was, as usual, right, and spent most of the morning charming her office to feel cooler. Around lunchtime, she had sat down at her desk to work through lunch, as was her custom, when there was a purple interdepartmental memo came whizzing through the door, nearly taking out the eye of the young intern who happened to get out of her chair at the same time it flew by. Unfolding it, Hermione recognized the handwriting of her colleague in the Magical Law Enforcement department.

_Hermione – Friendly warning! Just seen your name down to have your first marriage audit tonight, and I’m afraid you’ve got the worst of the bunch coming. His name is Maximillian Garret and he’s just awful – big Salem supporter, suspected ex- Death Eater but he’s so rich no one cares. Be warned, he’s up for a big crack down on people whose marriages aren’t up to scratch. Let me know how it goes – Melanie. _

Hermione’s worries from the day before came flooding back. Just typical of her to get that sort of Ministry official. She scribbled back a note to Melanie before destroying her friends note – no sense getting people in trouble.

As soon as she walked through the door that night she told Fred the news. Even he looked slightly worried.

‘I’ll be honest, Granger, it’s been worrying me all day.’

‘Me too!’ she laughed. ‘Come on, we should at least cook dinner.  We’ll go about everything just as normal until he gets here.’

Hermione never thought cooking with another person would be as fun as it was with Fred. Somehow the lanky red-haired man managed to make the whole thing seem as hilarious as a comedy show. They tried to cook together most nights, alternating the jobs of chopping and actually cooking the food. It was something they both enjoyed doing. _I’d never have thought_ Hermione realised, _that Fred Weasley would enjoy cooking in his down time. I never even thought he had down time._ She shook her head. With the pressure of the last few years, she’d never thought of anyone except in terms of their safety.

They sat down to their lasagne and clinked their glasses of wine.

_To us_ , was the implied toast, and as they sipped the Sauvignon Blanc they had almost forgotten their visitor, who knocked at almost the exact time that Hermione had put the first forkful of food into her mouth.

‘Damnit!’ Fred cried. ‘Why do they always come when you’re eating?’ Hermione shushed him, reminding him that their flat wasn’t exactly large, and that sound could carry. She stood up and brushed a few imaginary crumbs from her skirt, before heading to the door. Fred followed not far behind.

‘Hello!’ she said as cheerfully as possible. ‘Sorry about this, we’ve just sat down to dinner…’

She stepped back to let the man in the door. As soon as she looked  at him, she knew her colleague was right. Something about the man just oozed… unpleasantness. If Umbridge had had a husband, she suspected he would have been something like this.

‘My name,’ he said, and at once Fred disliked the haughty tone. ‘Is Maximillian Garret. You must be Mr. Weasley.’ He offered Fred his hand in a limp, sweaty handshake. ‘Please do continue your meal… I like to observe the _couple_ in a more natural setting before we begin the examination.’

Hermione and Fred did as the man bid them. He took one look at their furniture and smirked. Taking out a handkerchief he performed a complex transfiguration, turning it into a soft armchair. Hermione gulped with nerves as the man sat himself opposite their table, notepad in hand, and gestured for them to begin eating.

Neither of them had much appetite. Hermione pushed each forkful of food around the plate several times before eating. Fred was desperate to break the uncomfortable silence.

‘Hey!’ he said, somewhat too loudly, as inspiration hit him. ‘You’ll never guess who came into the shop today?’

Hermione smiled at him, relieved. ‘Who?’

‘Old Flitwick!’

‘ _Professor_ Flitwick?’

‘Who else? Came right up to me, offered me my congratulations on marrying _the best student he’d ever had the pleasure of teaching_. He was very complimentary about you, actually. Said no student since you has ever got 112% on her examinations.’

Hermione blushed just slightly. ‘Well, he was an excellent professor.’

‘What I want to know, Granger, is how anyone gets 112% on an exam… I don’t think Fred and I ever got over 60%.’

‘You could have if you’d tried.’ She admonished him, reaching for a slice of garlic bread. ‘You’re far more intelligent than I am, when you apply yourself.’

‘Hmm,’ came a noise from their seated guest, which made Hermione chew far slower, as both her and Fred turned to face him. Maximillian Garret noted something on his pad, before smiling at the two of them.

After the two had washed up, by magic tonight since neither of them felt like playing house, the Ministry Official indicated that he needed to inspect their flat, before talking to them each individually – ‘In _private_ ,’ he added.

Hermione didn’t like the man’s face as he looked around their home. She knew what he was thinking – there was only two bedrooms, one of which she and Fred had converted into a library-come-study room. There was no room to raise a child. But she loved their cosy little flat, and felt quite defensive as Maximillian went around, noting, she was quite sure, the loud, bright colours as being some sort of rebellion.

It hadn’t really crossed Fred’s mind until Hermione whispered it to him. There was no room for children in this flat. Although he and Hermione were now having sex almost every night, neither of them had said anything about the need for a child. He hadn’t even thought of it in those terms. It took away the romance somehow. He cleared his throat.

‘Hermione – my wife – and I… we are currently looking to buy a house. A proper one. With room for children.’ He hastily tried to lie. Hermione’s eyes widened just slightly.

‘Oh – yes! Near Fred’s family home, in Ottery St Catchpole. Actually.’

‘I come from a big family, you see. Very important to have them all nearby when we finally have a child.’

Hermione smiled slightly at the idea. ‘Especially Molly,’ she pointed out softly. ‘She’ll be heavily involved I’m sure.’ Fred caught Hermione’s eye and his heart melted. He hoped all their children had her eyes.

‘I’m glad to hear that you are thinking about children. This flat would be completely unsuitable.’ Maximillian replied, but Hermione suspected he didn’t believe a word of it.

Hermione had to wait in their bedroom whilst Maximillian interrogated Fred. It was the most nerve-wracking thirty minutes of her life. She ran over the answers to any possible questions like it was an exam… _blue, like the ocean; April 1 st; cooking, reading and walking; two children, minimum; dogs over cats; Sunday roast dinners; he calls me Granger, affectionately._

An ashen-faced Fred opened the door and Hermione jumped up. He nodded and hoarsely said:

‘It’s your turn, Granger.’

Hermione gave him a quick hug as she walked by. As she heard the door to their bedroom click shut, she sat down in front of the Ministry official.

‘Ms. Granger…’

‘Weasley.’ She corrected him. ‘ _Mrs._ Weasley.’

‘Ah yes – I apologise. Of course, your _exploits_ are well known…’

‘Exploits?’

‘I mean your involvement with the downfall of the Dark Lord.’

‘I helped Harry defeat _Voldemort_ as well as I could.’ She smiled to see him wince at the name. He was nothing but a coward.

‘Yes, well, to business perhaps.’ Hermione steeled herself for the questions. She could do this, she knew all the answers. ‘Do you love your husband?’

She faltered. ‘Wh-what?’ That was a question she had not been expecting.

Maximillian made a note.

‘I mean – of course I do, what sort of question is that?’

‘Hmm.’

‘I love Fred very much!’ she insisted. ‘I didn’t think I could at the beginning, when we were matched by whatever process you used. But I adore him.’

Maximillian made another note.

‘And what do you think of your husband’s less than perfect academic record?’

‘I don’t think of it at all. It doesn’t bother me. I think you’ll find I have enough O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts for the two of us _and_ any children that will come along.’

‘On that subject, do you want children, Ms. – _Mrs_ Weasley?’

‘I had wanted to wait until I had been at the Ministry for a few more years, but with the new Statute they will have to come along quicker than I’d initially wanted; but yes, I love children.’

‘How many?’

‘Two, at least. Fred was so close to George growing up, so I’d love to have twins, and then maybe another one or even two.’

‘And are you and your husband attempting to conceive?’

Hermione blushed scarlet. She didn’t really want to be discussing this with anyone, let alone the slightly sleazy, pompous man in front of her.

‘If you mean are we having sex, yes we are.’

‘But you’re not yet pregnant?’

‘I’m not sure how aware you are of female biology Mr. Garret, but it doesn’t usually happen straight away.’

‘Indeed…’ He took time to make a rather long note, and Hermione cringed inwardly. She hoped she hadn’t been too rude.

‘What do you do for a living, Mrs Weasley?’

‘I currently work in the Department of Magical Education, as part of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.’ _As if you don’t know that_ , she thought.

‘Currently?’

‘I’ve just applied for a promotion in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Improper Use of Magic Office. I feel like my skills and life experience might be better suited to this area, and I’m confident that the Education department is now in safe hands.’ _Why did this feel like a job interview?_ Maximillian was writing another note. _Why isn’t he asking me about Fred?_

‘Mrs Weasley, tell me… what is your favourite colour?’

‘Peach.’

‘And your husband’s?’

‘Blue. Like the ocean. Those were the colours we had at our wedding.’

‘And what do you do when you aren’t busy at the Ministry?’

‘Um, well, we both love to cook, so we cook together. And we like walking – we try to go somewhere different every week. We read a lot, of course.’

‘What would you say was your husband’s favourite book?’

Hermione’s throat felt very dry. She didn’t know if Fred _had_ a favourite book. She scanned through her mind for a moment.

‘Erm…’

‘Never mind.’ There was a hint of malice in his voice. ‘And your favourite book?’

‘Jane Eyre.’

‘A Muggle book?’

‘Is there anything wrong with that?’

‘…Of course not…’

The questions went on and on and by the end Hermione’s head was so full of questions the answers just wouldn’t come out properly. After twenty minutes that had felt like a full day, Maximillian Garret called Fred back into the room. He scribbled on a piece of paper for some minutes, leaving Fred and Hermione stood feeling rather foolish in the centre of the room. He folded the paper and handed it to Fred

‘The aptitude tests are graded. Your results are written on this paper, and this,’ he handed Fred a Ministry purple leaflet, ‘explains the results available and any action you may need to take. Good day.’ He saw himself to the door quite quickly, and Fred and Hermione immediately opened the leaflet.

_Congratulations on your marriage! If you’re reading this leaflet, it means you have just completed the first aptitude test for a Ministry-arranged marriage. Couples are graded on three main areas: Living Arrangements, Enthusiasm, and Emotional Compatibility. At the end of the grading, an overall score will be awarded. Couples should check the overall test score against the key below, and follow the instructions outlined!_

‘Why are they always so cheerful?’ a pale and shaky Hermione asked.

_I  – Incompatible. If a couple has received a score of ‘I’, they must report to the Ministry of Magic within three days. A test score of ‘I’ will likely result in the Ministry dissolving the marriage, in which case the individuals will be placed on a waiting list for another spouse._

_U – Uncertain. If the couple has received a score of ‘U’, the Ministry official has some cause for concern, but it will not necessarily result in a disseverment of the marriage. The couple is advised to await follow-up instruction_

_A – Average. If a couple has received a score of ‘A’, they will be receiving support leaflets on how to make their marriage work. A Ministry official will conduct a further aptitude test within two-three months, looking especially at the areas in which this couple has received this score, to ensure this couple is working as hard as possible to create a happy environment and relationship._

_O – Outstanding. If a couple has received a score of ‘O’, they need take no further action. A Ministry official will arrange a follow up aptitude test within six months._

‘Let’s have a look then, shall we?’ Fred tried to smile, but found he couldn’t. Suddenly the possibility arose that he might not be married for much longer, and the thought hurt him more than he thought possible.

_Living Arrangements – U. Mr and Mrs Granger attempted to convince me they were looking at buying a larger house, but this is unsubstantiated. Currently no room or any apparent desire to conceive._

_Enthusiasm – A. Mrs Weasley expressed significantly anti-Statute feelings. Mr Weasley reportedly had a sexual rendezvous with another woman not long before the wedding, and has been overheard in his place of work expressing anti-Statute feelings. During the aptitude test, however, both expressed pro-marriage feelings, as identified in my next score._

_Emotional Compatibility. –  O. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley have made it obvious that this marriage has become one of love._

_In conclusion, given the widely varying test scores for each of these three areas, I am awarding an overall score of Average._

 

‘Average!’ Hermione yelped. ‘We’re average!’ She jumped up and down and kissed Fred. They were okay. They were still married.

‘I never thought I’d see Hermione Granger so happy to be average!’ Fred laughed.

‘All we have to do is have another aptitude test in a few months, and by then we can work on our anti-Statute feelings.’

‘And where we live!’ Fred reminded her, wrapping her in his arms for a hug.

‘Maybe we should walk around Ottery St Catchpole at the weekend?’ She laughed.

‘Absolutely. At least we got Outstanding on emotional compatibility!’ Fred laughed with her. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had an Outstanding grade in my life!’

‘I’ve never had an Average grade! But I’m very happy to be Average with you!’


	14. A good kind of terrifying

True to their word to Maximillian Garret, Fred and Hermione pulled on their walking boots that Sunday morning, and apparated to Ottery St Catchpole. The village was small and quaint and Hermione loved it at once.

‘It’s so sweet.’ She sighed. ‘Can’t you just imagine having a family here?’ It was a testament to how close their aptitude test had made them that neither of them blushed.

‘It does seem pretty perfect.’ Fred agreed. ‘Let’s go check out the houses.’

Fred had done his research with a speed and thoroughness that had surprised Hermione, and he’d found two houses for sale, on either side of the village, that they could reasonably afford. After a long discussion about their finances, which even Hermione had admitted was boring, they’d decided to keep the flat above the shop, for the twins to extend into the business as an area to experiment on new products.

As they made their way through the village, passing the pub, the shop, and several other young couples, Hermione’s spirits were high. The house they were to look at looked charming, with vines growing up the walls, and a little white picket fence outside.  It was in the middle of the row they were walking along, and Hermione felt happy anticipation growing as they neared.

‘Fred, it looks lovely!’ She sighed, as they unlocked the gate, looking around at the well maintained flower beds and . The elderly, Muggle man who owned the house was standing in the garden and shook Fred’s hand in welcome. 

‘You have a lovely garden,’ Hermione told him. ‘It’s just beautiful.’ Fred was rather entranced at the hose, which he had Hermione explain to him in whispers as the old man opened the house, and allowed them to have a look around.

‘It’s sort of a Muggle wand thing, we use it to water the flowers.’

Their conversation was stopped short, however, as they walked through the front door into the lounge. The old man had clearly not taken the time to look after his house as he had his garden.

‘I expect you’ll want to have a good look round?’ he asked. ‘I’ll be in the garden, give me a shout if you want to ask me anything!’

As the old man shut the door, Fred turned to his wife. ‘Is it totally impolite if we just leave now. It smells like my great aunt Mildred in here.’

‘We should at least look around… It might just be the lounge that’s bad…’ she said hopefully. They picked their way around the cluttered, dark room and swiftly discovered that the rest of the house was just as bad. Damp had bloomed across the walls of the bedrooms, and Hermione refused to even go into the bathroom, judging by Fred’s pale, slightly green face as he walked swiftly back out of it.

Hermione’s heart was in her shoes as they politely said their goodbyes to the sweet old man. They needed to buy a house, she knew, before their next review, otherwise they would think they didn’t want children. The walk to the next house was slow and relatively silent. Hermione had never known her husband so quiet. She linked her arm through his.

‘Cheer up Fred, the next one can’t be so bad!’

He managed a weak smile.

According to the GPS on Hermione’s phone, the next house should be in view around the next corner. She steeled herself, hoping for a similar first impression, but with a better ending.

They turned the corner.

‘Oh, Granger!’ came Fred’s weak voice. ‘Let’s not even bother!’

Directly in front of them, some yards down the street, the road forked into two. In the centre of the fork, beginning the row of houses on either road, was a relatively large property. A relatively large property that looked _awful_.

‘It might be better close to?’ She suggested.

Weeds and bushes vied for space in the small front garden. The dull, rather disgusting green paint on the door and windows was peeling and flaky, revealing an even worse mustard yellow underneath.

‘It looks _haunted!_ ’ Hermione said, laughing at her own superstition. Vague shadows hung at the darkened windows, and she suppressed a shiver.

They fought their way through the front garden and rang the doorbell. It opened with an ominous creak, and Hermione half expected to find something awful on the other side.

‘Hi! Ohmygosh I _completely_ forgot you were coming!’ came an excitable chatter from the small, plump woman in front of them. ‘Come in, come in. Let me get some damnable light in here.’

Hermione and Fred stepped into the dark hallway after the woman, who set about putting lights on and opening curtains in the rooms off the hallway. Hermione was pleased to note the menacing figures she noticed earlier were nothing but several slightly bedraggled looking pot plants.

‘You must be Mr and Mrs Weasley?’ the woman stuck out her hand and smiled at them. ‘Newly married – not one of these marriage law couples?’

Fred and Hermione nodded. ‘But we wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Fred grinned, sticking an arm around Hermione and smiling.

The lady nodded. ‘I’m Ms Indegato. Do come in! Sorry it’s all so dark, I’ve been upstairs all day.’ They stepped after her into the room their left, and Hermione’s slight smile grew.

‘Oh it’s _lovely_.’ She said. Fred knew she had fallen in love with the house then and there. It was a large room, opening onto what could be a dining room, but both rooms were stacked all around with shelves which were filled with books. The spaces that weren’t covered with books had bright and cheerful paintings, and Fred was especially drawn to one which hung over an old log burning fireplace. It was abstract, but the bright purples and yellows comforted him strangely.

‘I’ll let you have a look around, I’ll go make a cup of tea!’ Ms Indegato said cheerfully, waltzing out of the room in her strangely absentminded way.

‘Fred, it’s _perfect_.’

‘Let’s at least look at the rest of the house – it can’t be this perfect!’ he laughed.

But as they walked around the three bedrooms, all of which were decorated just how Hermione would have chosen, simply, but with splashes of bright colours and charm, they couldn’t find fault.

‘I guess first impressions don’t always ring true.’ Fred said knowingly, as Hermione giggled with excitement, thinking that they could be living in this lovely old house.

‘Well they certainly didn’t with us, did they? Whoever thought we’d be this happy together?’ She smiled at him, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

When they went back downstairs, they found the homeowner in the kitchen, as she had promised, but not making tea. Rather, she was sat cross-legged on the floor, a cat draped across her shoulders, immersed in a book.

‘Sorry!’ she yelped, as Fred gently spoke to her. ‘Completely lost track of time. What was I doing?’

‘Making tea,’ Hermione reminded her. ‘But it’s fine! Actually, we just came to tell you – we’d like to take the house!’

The woman was more excited than Fred had expected. ‘Move in as soon as you like!’ She clapped her hands gleefully. ‘As soon as the sale comes through I’m off travelling in Australia!’

They left her not long after, and as Fred and Hermione started the walk over to the Burrow for their dinner (Molly had insisted), Fred laughed.

‘She sure is enthusiastic! But I worry that she’ll loose herself in Australia!’

They let themselves into the Burrow when they arrived, the delicious smell of Molly’s cooking making their stomachs rumble immediately. Molly was as ecstatic as the couple knew she would be when they told her about the house.

‘Oh, it will be so lovely to have you nearby! And when you have the children, you can always leave them here you know while you young things go to work!’ She insisted, pulling both her son and daughter-in-law into a bear hug. ‘Grandma Molly will always look after the little ones.’

‘I’m not pregnant yet!’ Hermione laughed, returning the hug.

‘Oh I know dear, but it’s only a matter of time. Us Weasleys always have big families, I’m sure you two will be no different!’

Both Fred and Hermione were blushing a deep shade of crimson when they were saved by Harry and Ginny flooing in, followed shortly by Ron and Tris, and George and Angelina.

‘No Charlie tonight?’ Hermione asked, as they all sat around the table.

‘No, him and Katarina are off dragon-tracking in Norway.’

‘Ooh – that sounds lovely! Well, for them!’

Just as Molly sat down, and as the boys hungrily began to grab the food in front of them, Ginny stood up.

‘Sorry to interrupt the eating, Ronald,’ she laughed, looking at her brother who was glaring at her, spoon of potatoes in hand. ‘But Harry and I have an announcement.’

Molly burst into tears before Ginny had even said anything, and Hermione felt a happy tightness in her chest.

‘We’re having a baby!’

Hermione and Molly screeched with delight, simultaneously rushing around the table to hug Ginny and Harry. The boys started congratulating Harry, whilst Ron looked vaguely uncomfortable.

‘I’m just gonna ignore what you had to do to my sister to get her in the family way – but congrats, mate.’ He said, settling for a comfortable arm thump.

‘Oh _Ron!_ ’ Hermione laughed. ‘ _In the family way_ , indeed! Oh Harry, congratulations – you’ll be a wonderful father!’ She enveloped her friend in a hug, her tears dampening his shirt just slightly on the shoulder.

Arthur was crying silently, and after Ginny had been released by her mother and best friend, he swooped his daughter into a hug.

‘We’re so _proud_ of you Ginevra.’ Hermione heard him say, before turning back to Fred, not wanting to intrude on the rest of that conversation.

After the initial hubbub had died down, the family once more set about their dinner, with the occasional happy ‘a _baby_! I’m a _granny_!’ issuing from Mrs Weasley.

Hermione’s sure Molly’s cooking had improved, or that the brilliant news had made the food taste better than it ever had. Her and Fred were among the last to leave, at a dinner which turned into a late night chat for many of them. Fred and George had spent much of the evening conversing, since they got so little time together nowadays. Ginny had been surrounded by the rest of the company for some time, initially discussing the pregnancy, then generally setting the world to rights. By the time Fred and Hermione were leaving, the clock was striking 11.30, and Hermione was yawning.

They apparated directly back to their flat.

‘Guess we’ll be packing all this up before long, huh?’ Fred said, a slight twinge of sadness at leaving the home he’d loved for so long.

‘At least you’ll be able to come back here,’ Hermione said over her shoulder as she headed directly for the bedroom. ‘You can come sleep here when you want to get away from the kids!’ she laughed as they changed for sleep.

‘And leave you on your own? Nah – I couldn’t sleep without you next to me.’ He nuzzled her neck as they curled up. Neither of them could stop yawning, or smiling.

‘Isn’t it lovely about Ginny and Harry?’ Hermione said softly, sleep claiming her.

‘Perfect news to end today.’

‘Maybe it won’t be too long until we can make the announcement.’ She felt him grin behind her.

‘I hope not, Granger. I mean it’s terrifying. But a good kind of terrifying. I think.’

‘Definitely a good kind of terrifying. I skipped my last period, Fred. I haven’t said anything because I can’t be sure it’s that or if it’s just stress or something else. But I don’t know…’ she turned around to face him, unable to stop the tears or her smile. ‘I just think… maybe… that announcement might be sooner than we thought!’

Fred kissed her, hard. ‘You mean we might – you might! Granger! I never thought I’d be this happy about being so damn scared! This is amazing! You are bloody perfect, you know that?’ Hermione only laughed. ‘I mean it, Granger. What do those Muggles call it – MILF?’

Hermione’s tears were pushed out by her laughter. ‘Well that’s the phrase! But, please don’t tell anyone yet Fred, I want to be sure!’

‘Are you kidding? I want to buy a banner and hang it from the shop! I want to tell the world!’

‘Not just yet, Fred. I want to be sure!’

After a few minutes, and several kisses from an excited Fred, their tiredness caught up with them once more, and they drifted off in one another’s arms. Just as Hermione felt sleep falling over her, she heard Fred’s whisper.

‘Granger?’

‘Huh?’

‘This is the best kind of scared I’ve ever been.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Once again, sorry about the long wait between uploads - I'm officially on the mend now though so hopefully should be able to start writing a bit more often. Thank you all so much for reading this (rather long) fic & to everyone who has left kudos and comments, you're all lovely :D  
> I hope you all sufficiently hated Maximillian Garett, and are sufficiently cheered up by some good news in this chapter - but will the good times last? For now we're off house-hunting with our favourite couple!
> 
> Enjoy, my beloved Reader,  
> L_M_D


	15. St Mungo's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to everyone who is following this story :) I've had some lovely comments (and a lot of kudos, so thank you!). You are all wonderful, thank you for sticking with it this long! There will only be a few more chapters after this one, and possibly and Epilogue (hey, if it's good enough for JK...)
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains content that might be triggering for some people. It was difficult to write, and I hope you all forgive me! But all great love stories have hurdles that must be overcome, in fiction as in reality, and I have striven to do this as sensitively as I can. I'm sorry if this chapter offends or upsets anyone unduly, I assure you, it is not meant to do so.
> 
> For now, my dearest Reader,
> 
> L_M_D

A few weeks later, and the rather hurried house move was complete. Hermione and Fred hosted a large barbeque in their (now magically tamed) back garden, and Hermione was feeling relieved that Fred hadn’t done anything like hanging a banner to announce that they were having a baby. In fact, he’d only told his family, which Hermione was happy about. She had told her parents also, having caught the excitement from Fred. A pregnancy test had confirmed Hermione’s suspicions, and Fred had smiled like never before when she told him the news.

‘I never thought I’d feel this happy, Granger. Thank you!’

Those words haunted Hermione now, as she sat on a chair, Fred occasionally appearing to refill her plate with more barbequed food. Molly, Ginny, and her own mother were nearby, and they lazily sat in the August sunshine. Ginny was well into her fourth month now, and was showing a slight bump. Hermione was naturally still very slender, and thought with some relief that at least only a few people knew. That was the reason she couldn’t get Fred’s words out of her head – she was so terrified that something would go wrong.

All her life she had been the prepared one. She’d always studied hard, written her papers days in advance, read every book she could get her hands on – but pregnancy. Sure there were books. But nothing ever really explained what it would feel like – that complicated tangle of excitement (which made you want to run up to strangers and announce your news) and nerves (which made you protective of the knowledge, as though someone could take the happiness away). Added to the mix was the fact she was aware her body had been through some serious trauma during the War, and she just didn’t know how it would affect her. And Fred’s happy, loving smile from across the garden, where he manned the barbeque with Harry and George made her want to make him proud, to have twins maybe, and to be the best mother in the world.

She put a hand to her stomach. According to the pregnancy test she had taken, she was only a month along, hardly anything in comparison to Ginny’s four month belly. She felt a tremor of excitement. They at least got to go through this together, even if Ginny was slightly ahead.

The barbeque lasted late until the evening, in the way that gatherings of good friends should do. Hermione and Fred were still swapping news from their friends as they stood at the front of their garden. With a synchronised motion, they swept their wands in front of them, and furniture began packing itself away, the remnants of food tucked themselves neatly into Tupperware or the bin, and the barbeque got a thorough scrubbing from a magically hovering brush. Once everything was packed away Fred poured them both a soft drink, and they collapsed onto their (still very blue) sofa.

‘Today’s been pretty great, Granger.’ Fred said softly, as Hermione curled her feet under her and snuggled into him. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too, Fred.’

 

‘Merlin, my feet are _painful!_ ’ Ginny said through gritted teeth as she finally sat down on a comfy sofa. She’d been the one to suggest a brunch date with Hermione, but walking down Diagon Alley had been trickier than she’d anticipated.

Hermione smiled. ‘But you look great, Ginny!’ And it was true. Pregnancy suited her, and her pale skin was glowing with happiness and health.

‘Six months in and I already want it over, Hermione. Honestly, I might look great, but I feel bloody awful. I just wish he’d stop kicking! He’s a right regular little Bludger!’

‘Aw, he’s just growing up strong and healthy!’

‘Anyway, how are you?! I see the newest Weasley is making himself visible at last!’

Hermione smiled, with a hand on her finally blooming stomach. ‘I’m good! Fred’s still bouncing around like an excitable puppy.’ They laughed.

‘I never thought I’d see Fred this happy to have a kid!’

‘Well!’ Ginny began, after the waitress had taken their order. ‘I have a little announcement!’

‘What?’ Hermione smiled, her best friend’s happiness already radiating off her.

‘We’ve decided on a name for this little Quidditch player!’ she placed both her hands on the kicking baby. ‘James Sirius.’

Hermione’s eyes immediately filled with tears. ‘Oh _Ginny!_ It’s just perfect!’ There was a twinge of sadness, as it brought home the fact neither of the namesakes would meet the new Potter baby.

‘What about you, have you thought of names?!’ Ginny asked, after Hermione had cooed sufficiently.

‘Oh, no. I mean, I’ve always had a few ideas. But none that I’m sharing!’ Ginny persisted, trying to wrangle name ideas out of Hermione until food arrived and both women tucked in with gusto.

Hermione was especially chirpy as she nipped into the shop as the girls headed home.

‘Hello love!’ she smiled at Fred, who had just finished serving an overly enthusiastic new Hogwarts student. He pecked her on the lips quickly.

‘Good brunch?’

‘Absolutely. I’m heading home now, so I’ll see you tonight.’ She smiled softly. ‘I’ll cook something nice.’

‘Sounds like a date, Granger.’

She smiled and turned to leave.

‘I love you!’ Fred called, loudly enough to bring several shoppers nearby to a standstill, and cause not a few blushes on the cheeks of a few adolescent girls who stood close by, admiring the daydream products.

‘I love you too, you fool.’ She grinned.

 

Cooking dinner that night, Hermione felt on top of the world. Their second Aptitude test had occurred the week before, in their new home, with a lovely Ministry Official named Mavis Carlisle, and they had passed with flying colours. They didn’t have another one for at least six months, which Mavis had hastily reassured them would be a piece of cake. She’d had a lovely day with her best female friend, who was married to her other best friend. She had a handsome, loving, funny, and intelligent husband, and she was carrying his child. Life couldn’t be sweeter.

She made sure to tell Fred that that night; as soon as he apparated into the front garden she jumped up from the chair where she had been enjoying the last of the day’s sunshine, and smothered him in kisses.

‘I’m just so happy, Fred.’ She felt tears forming in her eyes. ‘Oh Merlin, is this what pregnancy does to you? I’m a wreck!’ She laughed as he wiped away the stray tear which rolled down her cheek. He chuckled along with her.

After dinner they curled up on the sofa, the Wizarding Wireless Network crooning in the background. Hermione yawned.

‘Early night for you!’ Fred smiled, hugging his wife close.

‘Ow!’ Hermione yelped, in surprise and pain, pulling away from Fred, a hand flying to her stomach

‘What’s the matter love? Are you okay?’ Fred asked, concern threading through his voice.

Hermione sucked in some air. ‘I don’t know.’ Her face screwed up in pain. ‘It’s like… cramps?’ She said, her tone questioning. She stood up. ‘I need the bathroom.’

Fred stood up quickly, taking her arm and leading her up the stairs. Her grip on his arm was weak, and her cheeks were pale. His face was crumpled in concern.

‘It’s alright love, I’m sure it’s normal. Everything’s going to be fine.’ He cooed, not feeling very confident himself.

He stayed at the top of the stairs as Hermione hobbled into the bathroom just a short distance away. He started biting his nails, a bad habit he’d picked up as a kid which he reverted to whenever he was nervous.  

He bit until his fingers were sore, and then started pacing. He was about to knock and see if she was okay when the door opened. She had one hand on her stomach, one steadying herself on the door.

‘I need to go to St Mungo’s. Now.’

 

A Healer had whisked Hermione away almost as soon as they arrived at St Mungo’s.  Now Fred sat on an uncomfortable chair, attacking his nails again in a small side room. He had been there for what felt like hours when a tall, imposing man with salt and pepper hair strode into the room.

‘You may go in and see your wife, Mr Weasley.’ The man’s voice was softer than Fred expected, and it did nothing to calm his nerves. He bolted into the room where they had taken Hermione, skidding to a stop next to her.

She was laid down, on her side so her face was away from him. But he could tell, by the muffled sounds and the shaking of her shoulders, that she was crying.

‘Hermione?’

He knew she heard him, because the ball she had curled herself into tightened, and the muffled sobs became slightly louder. He moved over to the bed.

‘Hermione?’ He placed on hand on her shoulder, sitting himself on the edge. ‘Hermione, are you okay?’

She steadfastly refused to speak. Soon enough, a kindly looking witch entered with a cup.

‘Mrs Weasley? I’m going to give you a Sleeping Draught now. You’ve experienced a massive shock, and you need to rest.’

At this, Hermione finally uncurled herself enough to face the people in the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had mascara smudged all around them. She took the Draught silently, drinking it quickly in one gulp before curling herself back up and facing the wall. Soon her breathing steadied, and it was clear the potion had done its job.

The witch nodded her approval and went to walk out. Fred jumped up and grabbed her by the arm.

‘Wait! Please… What’s happened?’

Her eyes went wide – ‘Mr Weasley, has no one… Oh Merlin.’ She took his arm and steered him outside, sitting him on one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs. She pulled one in front of him and sat down in it herself. ‘I’m so sorry the Healer didn’t tell you earlier… I’m afraid your wife has suffered a late-term miscarriage.’

Fred took a moment before this information registered. ‘You mean… the baby?’

‘It’s extremely uncommon, but I’m afraid it does happen.’

Fred’s head was whirling. ‘But how? Why? She’s been so healthy… so happy…’ he trailed off.

‘Like I said, your wife was in the safest part of pregnancy, but it looks like there may have been a problem with the placenta…’

The Healer continued talking but Fred had zoned out. They’d lost their baby.

‘Has your wife had any symptoms such as backache? Any blood?’ Fred snapped back to reality.

‘She’s complained about backache a few times. No blood that I’ve seen – I don’t know.’ Fred put his head in his hands. Had he been ignoring signs that he should have seen? He’d been too caught up in the excitement, in wanting to tell everyone that this beautiful, smart woman was having his child…

He felt the Healer gently touch his arm. ‘I’ll get you a Sleeping Draught too if you like. Go back in there. Your wife will want you when she wakes up.’

Fred rejected the Sleeping Draught, but returned to Hermione’s room. He transfigured a box of tissues into a cushion, and sat on a chair close to her. He took her hand in his, bent down and kissed it gently.

‘Oh, Granger. I’m so sorry.’ Fred closed his eyes as he felt the first tears of the day creep out. ‘I’m so sorry.’


	16. The First Scoop of Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so very sorry for leaving this story alone for so long. I've been having a lot of computer issues lately, and it culminated in my laptop actually dying a very sad and lonely death. I've had to wait a while to get a new one, for I am only a poor uni student.   
> Secondly, thank you to user livtheravenclaw, for commenting such lovely things, and to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far. I know this story deals with some pretty sensitive stuff, which is another reason I've left this... I wanted to make sure this was the right way to go with this story!  
> For now, as always, dearest Reader,  
> L_M_D

When Hermione woke up the next day, her eyes still stung. The Sleeping Draught had lasted a good twelve hours, and the bright sunshine outside the hospital window mocked her. A gentle snore alerted her to Fred’s presence. She turned her head to look at him, tears forming in her eyes as she saw her husband stretched out, his limbs far too long for the small hospital chair. He was deeply asleep.

‘Oh, _Fred_.’ She sighed.

A thin, pale Mediwitch entered not long after, moving silently to the head of Hermione’s bed. Crouching down, she whispered,

‘Mrs Wealsey? How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Terrible, actually.’ Hermione muttered back.

‘Are you in any pain? I can give you another sedative draught if you’d like to go back to sleep?’

‘No, I can hardly feel anything. Is this it? Is it over?’

The witch nodded. ‘There may be a little bit of spotting over the next few days, but you are no longer pregnant. The baby is gone. We’re more concerned now about your emotional well-being.’

Hermione nodded. ‘I know. I’m so angry at myself. This is all my fault.’ Tears formed and she began to cry.

‘None of this is your fault, Mrs Weasley. We’re not entirely sure what went wrong, but it could…’

The nurse carried on talking, but Hermione had zoned out. I’ll have to tell everyone. I’ll have to tell everyone I failed to carry this baby. Tears were forming in her eyes again. A jerky movement next to her told her Fred had awoken, and soon his comforting arms were wrapping themselves around her.

She wasn’t sure how long he held her. The Mediwitch had left, and they were alone for some time before either of them even spoke. It was Fred who broke the silence.

‘Now, Granger. You listen here! I know how that ginormous, wonderful brain of yours thinks, and I’m fairly sure that you’re looking at this like it’s a failure…’

‘It…’ _Is,_ Hermione went to tell him, but Fred just held her closer to him and carried on whispering in your ear.

‘This is _not_ your fault. This is no one’s fault. This is a stupid, crappy, horrible thing and it could have happened to anyone. But it happened to us and we _will_ get through it. We’ll cope with this, like we’ve coped with everything else this ridiculous universe has thrown at us.’

 

They did. They coped. Slowly.

The hardest part was telling everyone. The endless hugs and tears and softly whispered _Oh no_ ’s. Ginny and George took it the hardest. Ginny was so close to giving birth now, just a few weeks that she knew would fly by. And she felt, with the instinct of motherhood her pregnancy had given her, how Hermione was feeling. George, whose own attempts at having a child were failing, saw the emptiness in his twin’s eyes, felt a wall go up between them that had never been there before.

For the longest while, they could barely lay down in bed together without one or the other remembering what had happened.

But then Hermione found that she could get up and go to work in the morning without crying at her very _un_ pregnant belly in the bathroom mirror. Fred cracked a joke with a young Hogwarts student in the shop one day, and George had to excuse himself as the tears sprang to his eyes.

That night, Fred held Hermione in his arms in the kitchen whilst they were cleaning the pots from dinner and whispered how much he loved her, how proud he was of her.

She had cried, but the pull in the place where her heart was had lessened slightly.

One night, a week or so later, they invited the Weasley’s, the Granger’s, and some of their close friends over for dinner. Afterwards, they gathered outside in the garden. No one spoke for a while. They all knew why Fred and Hermione had asked them to come outside.

It was Fred who broke the silence.

‘We, Hermione and I… we wanted you all here to say goodbye to someone. We don’t have anything to bury, but we’ve lost a child…’ Mrs Weasley loudly sobbed into a handkerchief and had to be comforted by Arthur. Ginny put a hand protectively on her large bump. ‘We lost our child, and we wanted do something in memory of him or her.’

Hermione clasped his arm as his voice cracked. ‘We’re going to plant a tree.’ She announced, indicating the shovel in her hand. ‘Not by magic, but the Muggle way. We’d love it if some of you would dig one part of the hole. All of you were so wonderful to us, when we got engaged, when we got married, when we got pregnant, and now that we’re not… And we know that you would have been a huge part in our child’s future. And that you will be a huge part in the future of any children we have later on.’

Fred’s head whipped around to look at her. ‘Not that that will be for a while…’ she elaborated, catching Fred’s look. ‘But we had so much love for our baby, even though they were only with us for a few months, and not even out here in the real world. We know no child will replace the one we lost… But we still have all that love to give to another child, in the future.’

Everyone was crying now, Hermione included. So she rounded off her speech and stuck the shovel in the ground, digging out the first scoop of dirt.

Fred went next. George followed. Harry did two, one for him and one for Ginny, who smiled apologetically at Hermione, who gave her a hug in return. One by one every guest dug a small pile of dirt out of the ground, and when it was done, Fred and Hermione both levitated the mulberry tree sapling into the hole.

 

‘We did a good thing tonight, Mrs Weasley.’

‘I know.’ Hermione smiled at him, as he brought her body close to his. ‘I love you, Fred. And I meant what I said out there. I do want to try again… One day. Not yet. But you’ll be such a wonderful father…’

‘And you’ll be the best mother in the world… Besides, with your good looks and brains and my… well, my good looks too, we owe it to the world to have kids really.’ He grinned at her and, for the first time in a great many weeks, Hermione Wealsey laughed.


	17. You Already Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with this story. And thank you for everyone who has given me such amazing comments, especially on the last couple of chapters, which have been particularly hard for me to write. I hope I did it justice.  
> This, and the next chapter, are going to be the final ones, so I hope you continue to stay with me!
> 
> For now, dear Reader, I am as always, yours,
> 
> L_M_D

****‘HARRY JAMES POTTER I SWEAR TO MERLIN IF YOU DON’T GET BACK IN THIS ROOM RIGHT NOW I’M GOING TO HEX YOU INTO NEXT TUESDAY!’

The piercing screams of Ginny Weasley filled the hospital. Rumours circulated, mostly spread by Fred and George, that she could be heard in the fifth-floor visitor’s tea room. Hermione silently wished that she’d cast a _Muffilato_ spell on Ginny prior to her labour, which was now well into its sixth hour.

The pain-relieving potion was well and truly wearing off, judging by how hard Ginny was gripping Hermione’s hand. Hermione had been honoured when Ginny had asked her to be in the delivery room with her, but now she was beginning to regret agreeing. She had a feeling she’d need some bone-mending done whilst she was still at the hospital. Harry had only stepped out to get coffee a few minutes ago, but he came flying through the door just moments after Ginny’s yell.

‘Is it the baby?’ He asked, almost yelling at the Mediwitch, his green eyes wide with terror.

‘I SWEAR TO MERLIN HARRY WE ARE NEVER HAVING MORE THAN THIS ONE!’ Hermione met the eyes of Mrs Weasley, who was standing on the other side of her daughter, and they shared a smile.

Another half an hour later, and the Healer finally announced that he could see the baby’s head. Hermione slipped out of the room, to where Fred and the rest of the Weasley’s were waiting.

‘It’s coming!’ She announced happily. Fred pulled her in for a hug, excitement and bittersweet joy overcoming him momentarily. She pulled back from him slightly, gave him a quick peck. She knew where his thoughts were heading, couldn’t help having the same ones herself.

A scream, and then the unmistakable cry of a baby startled everyone.

Harry rushed out, his pale face and green eyes swimming with tears. ‘I’m a dad!’ he cried, succumbing to tears, and sobbing onto the nearest Weasley, which happened to be Arthur. There was a lot of cheering, and a good deal of crying, in the hospital waiting room that night. Ginny was exhausted, but proud enough to show off James Sirius to the entire family present. After cooing and ahh-ing over the gorgeous baby, with his bright green eyes and tiny tuft of brown-red hair, Hermione and Fred slipped away. Their thoughts had turned to their own child, and although they had grieved and put the child to rest in their thoughts, they couldn’t help think of him or her on that night.

‘Wasn’t he just gorgeous, Fred?’

‘I know! I’m an uncle!’

Hermione smiled at him. ‘It’ll be us someday soon, Fred.’

 

A few days later, Ginny and Harry invited Hermione and Fred over for a night of pizza, although the main reason was of course the tiny, smiling child in Ginny’s arms. The maternal instinct that had awakened in Hermione from the moment of her initial pregnancy came to the fore when she held James Sirius, and she couldn’t help the tears of happiness.

‘Honestly!’ she sniffled. ‘I’m so emotional and he’s not even mine. He’s so perfect, Ginny.’

Ginny grinned. ‘I’m mostly not crying because I haven’t slept since he came along!’

‘That bad?’ Fred chimed in. ‘I hoped he’d be a mischievous one – gets that from his uncles!’

‘You’ll be sorry you said that when you’re up every hour in the morning!’ Harry laughed, running a hand through his already messy hair.

‘I basically nap when he naps, at this point.’ Ginny laughed, reaching for another slice of pizza. ‘Plus I’m essentially living on carbs!’

‘Oh don’t!’ Hermione chuckled. ‘I’m bigger than you and you’ve just had a baby!’

Both boys just shook their heads.

 

When Hermione and Fred finally slipped into bed that night, Hermione started crying again.

‘Oh love!’ Fred smiled at her, pulling her into his arms. ‘It’s okay!’

‘I know, I’m just so happy for Harry and Ginny. He’s such a gorgeous little boy!’

Fred laughed at his wife. ‘Oh, Granger. I never thought I’d see the day when that adorable little know-it-all bookworm would cry over a baby.’

‘Since I got pregnant, I’ve just been so ready to be a mum!’ She sniffled. ‘I didn’t think I’d want a child this young either but I really do. I want us to have kids, Fred. I know we have an exemption from the Ministry, so I’m not feeling rushed by them or anything… I don’t know.’ She laughed at herself, and stifled a yawn.

‘Someone’s sleepy!’ Fred chuckled, curling up. ‘We probably ought to get some sleep!’

The next morning, a Sunday, dawned miserable and grey. Hermione heard the rain before she even opened her eyes, and snuggled further under the comforter.

‘Fred?’ she whispered, since her husband’s eyes were still shut.

‘Yeah?’ His response, quick and not tinged with sleep, told her she hadn’t woken him up.

‘Can we stay in bed all day?’

Fred kissed her, wrapping her up in him. ‘Deal, Granger.’

 

Two hours later, however, Hermione was up and out of bed. Still in her pyjamas, she brewed some fresh coffee and began cooking.

‘Mmm! Something smells amazing.’ Fred said, wrapping his arms around his wife.

‘Bacon!’ She announced happily. ‘ _And_ eggs!’ She indicated the frying pan with her spatula.

‘What’s the occasion?’

‘I’m just happy! Plus I _really_ fancy eggs. I could definitely go for some eggs!’

Both of them tucked in happily a few moments later, sitting cross-legged on their bed and talking about everything and nothing.

Between sentences in an interesting discussion about Muggle Victorian literature, Hermione took a sip of coffee, before scrunching her face in disgust and spitting it immediately back into the cup.

Fred frowned. ‘Everything okay love?’

‘The coffee is awful, don’t bother trying it.’

Fred took a sip anyway. ‘Tastes fine to me. You sure you’re okay?’

‘Yeah, I feel fine. But I do fancy getting back into bed…’ she stuck her tongue out at him.

 

Hours later, they emerged once again. Fred’s forgotten and cold coffee stood accusingly on the sideboard. They stuck on an old movie, one of Hermione’s favourite Muggle ones, and snuggled down on the sofa together.

‘I love lazy days with you.’ Hermione sighed.

‘I love them too, Granger. Because I bloody love you.’

 

 

‘How is everything?’ Ginny asked, whispering slightly to avoid waking up James, who was asleep in his little rocking chair on Hermione’s floor.

‘Amazing, thanks. How’s life with little one?

‘Brilliant. We’re settling into a routine now.’ She picked up her tea, and looked frankly at Hermione. ‘How are you and Fred? Really?’

‘Honestly, we’re fine. We’re closer than ever, and… well, everything is good.’

Judging by her blush, Ginny knew what her best friend was talking about.

‘Are you thinking about having another?’

‘No. I mean, yes I am, of course. But we’ve decided to let things happen naturally. I’m not really thinking about trying. We’re just happy as we are. And now we’ve got no pressure from the Ministry we can relax at least. Fred’s been amazing,’ she gushed.

They chatted for a little while about everything else, laughing at the various gossip from their respective jobs and from the marriages which had been taking place. Ginny was doing a very convincing impression of Ron going on about Tris’s cooking ability when Hermione gasped.

‘Oh, Merlin!’

‘What is it?!’ Ginny immediately worried. ‘What’s the matter.’

‘I’ve just thought – Ginny I’ve only had one period since the miscarriage… and that was the first month after. I’ve been so busy I’ve not thought of anything else!’

‘Oh, _Hermione!’_ Ginny cried, happily. ‘Could it… Do you think…’

‘Firstly, swear you will not breathe a word to anyone – Not even Harry! Not even Fred!’

Ginny solemnly swore, a huge grin on her face.

Hermione pulled out her wand, her hand shaking as she performed a testing spell on her own belly.

‘ _Positive!_ ’ Ginny breathed, staring wide-eyed at her friend. ‘Hermione!’ She jumped up and hugged the shaking witch, promptly waking up James Sirius in the process.

Hermione’s mind was in turmoil. She was ecstatic but terrified, and couldn’t imagine what else she would do if she lost the baby again.

Ginny left hours later, as Fred came home from work. She was still grinning widely, and after Ginny had reassured her a _lot_ – so was Hermione.

Fred glanced between them suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes.

‘What are you two planning?’

‘Oh – we’re not _planning_ anything!’ Ginny snorted. ‘We tend not to plan things around here, apparently!’

She snorted again, before wishing them both goodbye and apparating back to her own house, James in one arm, bag and rocking chair tucked under the other (a feat, Hermione noted, that she would have to learn if the test was correct).

 

It took her a few days to tell Fred. She felt bad, keeping the news from him, but she needed to get her head straight before she could think about telling anyone else. When she told him, he sat there in silence for some time.

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you straight away Fred… I wanted to have my own moment, to sort out all those feelings… I was so conflicted… Fred?... You’re not cross at me, are you?’

There was another long moment of silence. Hermione began to sniffle, thinking she had done the wrong thing.

‘How could I possibly be mad at you, Granger?’ Fred’s voice was low, but warm. ‘This is amazing news.’

‘We can’t tell anyone Fred, not just yet.’

Fred got up and knelt down in front of his wife. ‘I won’t tell anyone until _you’re_ ready to. I promise you that, Granger. I won’t do anything you won’t… When we… when we lost the baby, I felt for such a long time that it was my fault, that if I hadn’t blurted it out to everyone…’ Fred buried his head in both Hermione and his own hands.

Hermione joined in with his tears.

‘This time I’m going to look after you better… I’m going to be the best husband, the best father, I possibly can. I promise, Hermione. I’ll be the best I can be for you, and for our baby.’

‘Oh, _Fred._ ’ Hermione was sobbing now. ‘You already are. You’re already perfect for me.’


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we've finally made it! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with Fred and Hermione on this - at times rather emotional - ride! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have (and I'm sorry for the tears!). Thank you to all of the people who have commented support for some of the more difficult themes in this story - for me, writing has to be real, despite the fact I'm writing about a magical world.   
> I will be back soon with another fic, I'm sure, but for a little while I will be working on my real-life novel!   
> Until next time, dearest, most constant Reader,  
> I am ever yours,  
> L_M_D

Fred knew this pregnancy would be hard. So did Hermione. Still, it was even more difficult than they’d jointly anticipated. Fred had not realised how frightened he would be, how careful of Hermione’s every step. How annoyed she’d get when he treated her like the most delicate crystal, liable to break at a word said too loudly. Hermione didn’t bank on the anxiety, on the nights she would wake up in a cold sweat, her heart beating so loudly she feared it would wake their Muggle neighbours. She never counted on the nights spent crying in Fred’s arms, afraid to have the baby, afraid to lose it, afraid of being a terrible mother and more afraid of being no mother at all.

 

And yet the months ticked on, Hermione’s baby bump swelled, and slowly, slowly, the pregnancy became reality for the both of them. Ginny and Harry, ever busy from looking after James, watched with pride as their friends, who they had thought so horridly mismatched in the beginning, sailed through their last aptitude test, and had been told they would no longer be subject to Ministry scrutiny. They had painted the baby’s room a pale cream, having chosen to not know the sex.

‘I like surprises!’ Hermione had shrugged when they’d told the Weasley’s. ‘Besides – I don’t want _everything_ to be pink if it’s a girl, or blue if it’s a boy. I hated pink.’ She scrunched her nose, and Fred laughed. Molly was, consequently, currently knitting a variety of coloured booties, jumpers and bobble hats. Arthur, already a doting grandad to James Sirius, and counting on become a doting Pop to Hermione and Fred’s child, not to mention the possibility of the grandchildren he would have from his other children, had taken a decrease in hours at his job in the Ministry, intending to have as much time as possible with the next generation of Weasley children.

‘I swear I will never complain about any kind of pain, ever again! This baby better appreciate all I’m going through.’ Hermione wheezed, in between contractions. She had gone into labour three hours ago. Fred, standing near her head and holding tightly onto her hand, chuckled slightly.

‘Only you could talk like that when you’re about to give birth!’

‘About to is the operative word!’ The Mediwitch cheerfully proclaimed.

 

Another two hours later, and the anxious Weasley/Granger parents were allowed in for a cuddle with their beautiful new granddaughter.

‘Aurora Jane.’ Hermione breathed, staring down into the big, beautiful eyes of her daughter.

Both Mrs Weasley and Mrs Granger were crying; quiet, happy tears filled their eyes and rolled almost silently down their cheeks. George, the proudest uncle in the entirety of the wizarding world, had been unable to resist bursting into the room and had clung tightly to Fred, immediately feeling that tightness in his chest that indicated the level of his adoration for his niece. Angelina, herself just beginning to show the signs of pregnancy, had laughed.

‘I’m the one that’s meant to be emotional, not him!’ She’d dragged him away, only after reassuring him that they would go and see Aurora Jane as soon as they could, when Hermione and Fred were settled back at home. Arthur eventually apparated away with a still sobbing Molly, and Mr and Mrs Granger were escorted out of the dreadfully confusing hospital by a kindly Healer.

Alone, finally, with their little girl, Fred and Hermione took a moment of silence to bask in the wonder of their child.

‘Hey, Granger?’

‘Yes Fred?’ Hermione tore her eyes away from the now-sleeping Aurora to look at her husband, noted with some surprise the tears on his face.

‘I just wanted to let you know that… The last year… Since we found out that we were engaged… It’s been the happiest I’ve ever been. You are the smartest, kindest, bravest, most beautiful witch I know. And now…’ Fred’s voice cracked, and he waved a hand to indicate he was finished talking.

 

Angelina and George came around as soon as Hermione let them know it was convenient, which was almost immediately after breakfast the next day. Hermione eyed Fred’s gifts of a hand-knitted hat with some amusement, reminiscent as it was of her own attempts at hats during the early stages of S.P.E.W, but with a lot of gratitude. Angelina’s gift, which had been compiled with Luna and Ron’s wife Tris, was a care-package for Hermione, containing vouchers for _Mademoiselle Malkin’s Magical Mineral Springs_ , grab-and-go snacks, some books and magazines ‘for all the time spent waiting for baby to nap!’, and various lovely smelling body washes and hair products. Aurora Jane, her eyes a dark blue, stared up at her visitors, happily cooing and gurgling.

As her daughter received all the cuddles she could possibly want, Hermione, tired and happy, reflected on how far they had come in so little time. She was married, now, and a mother. And though her life had been complete before, although she had been fulfilled and happy, there was an expansion in her heart that she’d never thought possible. She was in love with her handsome, funny, sensitive and wonderful husband, and her gorgeous little girl – Aurora Jane, named for the dawn she was born under – had taken up so much of her heart that Hermione thought she was going to burst with happiness.

Fred smiled at his wife. She was curled up on the sofa, her eyes closed, head resting on her hand. Angelina and George took a hushed farewell, leaving Fred to tuck his daughter up in her cream coloured cot.

Overwhelmed with love, he sat murmuring stories to Aurora. Stories about a brave, beautiful princess with wild curly hair, who fought off all the bad guys herself, and a handsome, oh-so-charming court jester who fell in love with her.

‘The jester,’ he told her, ‘knew from the start that the princess was special. No other princess in the world knew as much as she did, none were as brave, as beautiful. But he had to convince her first, had to prove to her that he loved her more than any of the handsome prince’s the princess could have married. One day, the jester got down on one knee and gave the princess a diamond ring. And the jester felt like a prince, because he’d been lucky enough to win the love of the most wonderful woman in the world.’

 

 

_Eleven Years Later_

‘Do you think they’ll let me take my O.W.Ls early, Mum?’ The precocious young girl, with dark curled hair and big brown eyes, drew some curious looks from the Muggle strangers about her. This was mostly due to the large tawny owl on top of the luggage rack being pushed by her father. Her mother tutted.

‘I _told_ you, Aurora, you’re not to think about your O.W.Ls just yet! The Professors will know when it’s the right time, and I’m sure you’ll be allowed to do as many as you can fit in!’

‘When do _I_ get to go to Hogwarts, Mum?’ piped up a voice from Hermione Weasley’s side.

Fred laughed, seeing the look on his wife’s face.

‘Not just yet Alex. Three more years!’ The little boy pouted, shaking his hair, still quite long because of his mother’s attachment to the reddish brown locks.

‘Hey!’ Aurora Jane stopped, took her little brother’s hand. ‘Just think, while I’m away doing boring old schoolwork, you’ll get to be at home and play with all our stuff! _And_ I bet Dad will let you help in the shop with him and uncle George if you’re good.’

Alexander George Weasley smiled slightly. Aurora winked at her dad.

‘I sure will, kiddo!’ He picked up his youngest child and swung him onto the top of the luggage racks. Hermione’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. She knew her husband would never let anything bad happen to their children, despite his occasionally reckless behaviour. They had been married for twelve years now, and every day she realised how wonderful he was. Secretly, she even thanked Adolfus Salem for introducing that horrific law, now successfully repealed. Without it, she might never have married the man she now considered her soulmate.

‘Hermione, Fred!’

Hermione heard Harry before she saw him, with James Sirius and Albus Severus in tow. She waved to him and Ginny, allowed Aurora to run off and see her cousins. They entered Platform 9 and Three-Quarters together.

 

‘Now, remember to give my love to Professor Longbottom, won’t you Aurora?’ Hermione kissed her daughter through the carriage window.

‘I _know_ , Mum.’

‘And say hi to Peeves for me, Rory!’ Fred chimed in with a grin. ‘He’ll be glad to know there’s a mini version of me and George back in the school this year!’

Aurora laughed, and her parents stepped back as the whistle blew.

Hermione’s eyes welled up as she waved and waved goodbye, the train pulling out of the station – somehow agonizingly slowly, and all too quickly both at once.

It had been a hard few years. They had weathered the birth of two children, with all the challenges parenthood came with, and one child, still remembered with the flourishing mulberry tree. Hermione looked at her husband, pulling silly faces at his eldest child as she left for school for the first time. He looked older now, his body, once Quidditch toned, had softened into middle age. There were lines around his eyes, creases of laughter and sorrow and joy and pain, testaments to the stories he’d told his daughter, the laughter and tears he’d shared with his wife, the night’s he’d slept no more than five minutes at a time when Alex had been a sickly, needy baby. His hands were roughened still, by the continual use of dubious products for the successful franchise of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. She knew she had grown too, her body changed by the three children she had carried in her, the two she had birthed and fed as well as she could. She, too, had crow’s feet, lines of all the laughter she had shared with those she loved. She had been horrified the other week to find her first grey hair, which had caused Fred an enormous amount of amusement.

The train had long gone, and Fred and Hermione had apparated back to their flat with the now placated Alex, who had immediately gone to his sister’s bedroom to play with all her toys, something Fred had strongly encouraged.

As Hermione sat down in the sofa, a cup of tea in hand, Fred pulled her in for a kiss, felt their third, unplanned and unexpected, child kicking in his or her mother’s stomach. Fred would swear to his dying day that her lips were as soft then as they were when they first kissed outside her front door.


End file.
